Road Trip
by Nicole Harpe
Summary: Sam is home. Gooshie has died. In order to help deal with their loss, Sam and Al talk with their families about a Road Trip they took while waiting to see if the government was going to fund the project.
1. Introduction

Road Trip - A Look before the Leap

SUMMARY: Sam is home. Gooshie has died. In order to help deal with their loss, Sam and Al talk with their families about a **_Road Trip_** they took while waiting to see if the government was going to fund the project.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: There are a lot of contradictory bits of information about the lives of Sam and Al. Certain things just don't work in any timeline. Therefore, this story has made a few adjustments to the canon of the show, primarily to the date of Katie Beckett's marriage to her abusive first husband, and Sam's marital status.

SPECIAL THANKS to "the brunette in Delaware" whose vision of the desert crying for Gooshie (and Dennis Wolfberg) inspired this story.

The author thanks Bellasarius Productions, Universal Studios and any other creative entities responsible for Quantum Leap.

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**Introduction **

Summer storms in New Mexico had a smell to them. The scent refreshed the dry desert air, but three days of rain wasn't typical. It started out with a bang of thunder and a flash of lightning that lit the sky. There was a kind of splendor in its announcement, a recognition that nature will claim what it chooses to claim when it chooses to do so.

Finally, a steady drizzle thickening the sky with a layer of gray clouds replaced the downpours attacking previous days. Everyone else already left the small private cemetery except two men, a Mutt and Jeff pair of scientists who remained behind unable to pull themselves from the side of their friend, a little guy with bad breath who managed to pull their asses out of a hell of a lot of fires.

Dr. Sam Beckett stood tall, his muscular frame trying to defy the sadness in his soul. Beside him, a spare man, Admiral Al Calavicci kept his hands in his pockets and his face to the ground. Neither man spoke. Their loss was profound and each buried heartache behind closed lips and angry eyes. Neither would give sound to the childlike emotions coursing through them. It wasn't fair. Their friend should not have died. They mourned this quiet man who had few interests outside his computers and Project Quantum Leap. He had led an unobtrusive life in a world of the extraordinary and that was fine by him.

Gooshie, a nickname gleaned from some unknown time and place, had a kind of native binary intelligence both his friends envied. He thought like a machine and was able to diagnose complex computer glitches easier than a doctor diagnoses a cold. Problem was Gooshie's doctor diagnosed cancer, a cancer often cured, but not this time. It took years for the disease to consume the dear man and the last few pain-filled months devastated everyone. It made no sense. They traveled in time, changed people's lives for the good and yet they could not figure out how to keep cancer cells from replicating. It made no sense at all.

The sound and fury of the storm's first night ushered Gooshie into his next life. The rush of raindrops had not abated and now, at the graveside, a misting continued dampening the desert and keeping the souls left behind from seeing any kind of light at the end of this tunnel. Looking into the darkening sky, Sam put his hand on Al's shoulder. "Maybe we should go. Looks like the rain might pick up more."

"It's just rain, Sam. Nothing more than that."

"I don't know. Somehow it seems bigger than just rain."

Sotto voce, for no one to hear he whispered, "Kind of like the desert is crying."

While there was no doubt the man had an incredible imagination, Sam was surprised at Al's comment. It wasn't typical for the career military man to spout poetic metaphors and certainly not about the programmer whom they laid to rest. "What did you say?"

Al started to walk away from the grave. Sam barely heard Al mumble, "It's the desert crying tears for Gooshie."

In a few feet, Sam caught up with the older man and together they walked the mile back to the project entrance in silence. There was nothing more to say. Gooshie was dead. They hadn't found a cure for him, so they had failed their friend and nothing would change that. Sam slipped his keycard into the door's lock and it opened for him. The Admiral stopped a second before inserting his keycard. His hand wiped across his face. Sam was watching so he lied, "Damned rain." It wasn't rain alone that moistened his cheek. Sam knew not just the desert was crying tears for Gooshie. The Admiral swiped his card and was given access to this country's most secretive venture, Project Quantum Leap.

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Gooshie's death came with the rain and the rain left the afternoon of his funeral, but the sadness in the hearts of Sam and Al didn't seem able to see the light. They weren't looking for it either. Al sat in the family room of his cottage, his feet up on the coffee table, staring out the back window at the mountains in the distance. He nursed a glass of root beer, a childlike indulgence he stopped apologizing for decades earlier. What there was about the brown goo that appealed to him, he never figured out. God knows he had a sweet tooth and right now he wanted it satisfied.

Almost 45 years earlier he married the only woman he ever wanted to grow old with. Beth was still beautiful, though gray streaked her dark brown hair and years of laughter and tears lined her face with the joy of life. She knew her husband better than he knew himself and this depression was going to hurt him unless he was able to break through it.

She sat next to him and took his hand. "You going to spend the rest of the day staring out the window? You think Gooshie wants you moping around?"

His eyes closed and he laid his head on her shoulder. "Why do I feel like this? It's not like I didn't know he was dying. The last six months were borrowed anyway. God, I hate cancer."

Her hand gently touched his face. "Me, too." Their hatred of the disease was based on too many encounters with it. She leaned into him, kissing him full on the mouth, taking her time, making the kiss passionate, deep and a declaration of her desire for him.

The warmth of her body and of her love started to settle his soul. He wrapped his arms around her. "Beth, don't leave me. Please, don't ever leave me."

"Never. I'm here for the long run."

"Promise? It's going to get rough."

He was a three star Admiral now, a proven war hero, a time-traveling Nobel Prize winner and still he was insecure about relationships. He'd been abandoned so often as a child that 60 years after his father placed him in an orphanage he doubted his ability to hold onto people he loved. "Sweetie, I will never leave you. We'll get through this together, okay?"

There were times - like this - when he needed to know he was loved, became a little boy seeking comfort, became a lost Navy pilot wanting someone to rescue him from the torture. Beth understood and indulged these rare occasions willingly and without any discussion. It would embarrass him to verbally acknowledge what he perceived as weakness and she had no interest in doing anything that would demean this man whom she loved more than life.

The sun began to settle down past the horizon and the desert darkness came. It was a quiet time of peace and tranquility. They had been on the couch now for over an hour. Their contentment was such that they fell asleep entangled in each other's arms. They didn't even wake at the sound of the front door opening and three people coming in.

The youngest Calavicci daughter, twenty-year old Allie unlocked the door for herself and her sister Gia. Gia was the eldest Calavicci and her husband, the good Dr. Beckett had been invited to have dinner and spend some time with Al and Beth. Hopefully, both men would finally talk about the death of their friend and start to heal.

The sleep was so sound that even the noise of three people walking into the room didn't wake them. Allie rolled her eyes and said, "You'd think they'd be past that stuff by now."

Sam grabbed Gia in his arms. "You never get past it." He planted a wet kiss on his bride of 20 months.

Allie mumbled something about hoping it wasn't genetic. She tapped her mother on the shoulder, "Mom, wake up, Gia and Sam are here."

Beth startled awake. "What?" She saw two of her girls and her son-in-law. "Oh, Lord. What time is it?" She pulled her arm from under Al. "Babe, wake up. We have company."

One skill that Al learned was waking up. Once his eyes opened he was fully alert and able to function. He may not be happy about it, but he was alert. It was a skill his wife didn't have down pat. "Company?" He ran a hand over his face and saw family hovering over them. "This isn't company. It's just them."

Gia leaned over and gave her mother and father a kiss. "'Just them?' That hurts."

Sam followed suit, but only kissed Beth. Al got a slap on the back. "Yeah, Pop."

Standing up, Al went nose to nose - well, as much as their six-inch height difference allowed - "Call me Pop again and you'll regret it." A wink and a smile gave the confrontation its true meaning. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Gia laughed at her father's question. He had a remarkable mind, but social commitments like dinner plans never managed to stay in his head. "Mom invited us for dinner, but it looks like there's nothing cooking. Want to go out?"

Al moved his head from side to side working out the crick he gained through his nap with Beth. "Not really. We can put something together here." Finally Al noticed something was missing. "Where are the kids?" The grandchildren were a constant source of joy to the Admiral. He was as mischievous as they were and trouble always followed them.

Gia offered an explanation. "This is an evening for grownups. No babies."

"Yeah, but where are they?"

She hugged her father, "Dad, sometimes we like to be with you and Mom without the kids. We have a sitter at home. She's taking care of them tonight."

He was disappointed, but he understood her comment very well. "Okay, I guess." He kissed her forehead. "You are so beautiful."

"Thanks, Dad. So are you."

"Yeah, right." He moved away from eldest daughter and hugged the youngest. "You are so beautiful. Stop getting older, okay?"

"Sure, Dad. Whatever you say." She physically had to pull away from him, his grasp was so tight. "Easy, you're going to break a rib."

He flushed ever so slightly. These past few weeks were so hurt-filled that he needed the comfort of his family and now he was being "astro-geek," a term Peri, his third born coined for her astronaut father when he got too mushy. "Okay. I'll stop. I got to make dinner anyhow."

Beth pretended to wipe sweat from her brow. "Whew. I thought I was going to have to cook."

He took his wife's face in his hands. "We want to eat sometime in this century, honey." Before letting go, he kissed her long and hard again to the embarrassment of his youngest child.

"This is embarrassing." She started out of the room. "I'll be back as soon as I dump my books."

The two couples moved into the great room. Sam began to build a fire in the fireplace. "Gia, we have to get a fireplace."

"Sure, Sam. Whenever you get around to letting me take care of it. You're just like my father. You think because you're a man that you have to take care of fireplaces."

It was teasing time. The beginnings of all their visits began with at least ten minutes of teasing. "I'm nothing like your father, thank God."

From the kitchen Al called out, "You got that right. Why anyone would want to be like me is beyond my understanding." He had the refrigerator open. "Well, how hungry are you? If you want to eat in half an hour, I'll whip up some linguine with shrimp, garlic and oil. If you want to wait, I can make some giambotte. The giambotte could take about an hour or more."

Giambotte is a simple, but time intensive recipe. Beth didn't want Al in the kitchen all night. "Make the shrimp."

Gia was glad to hear her mother's suggestion. "Good, I'm hungry. Make lots."

And he did. They ate lots and lots and laughed until laughing hurt too hard. It was time to go back to the fireplace, sip brandy and relax. Beth took the orders and handed out snifters to everyone except Allie. "Come on, Mom. I'm almost 21."

"In ten months and when you're 21, we'll offer you a glass. Until then, there's some sparkling cider in the fridge."

Allie poured her cider and joined Al, Beth, Gia and Sam. The room was filled with soft light from the fire. The only other illumination came from the dining area. It was a quiet, serene place to sit and talk or not talk depending on what was most important at the time. Sam had his arm around Gia as they sat on the floor against the wall. Al and Beth curled up together on the couch opposite them. They all were looking into the fireplace when Allie sat on the other side of her father. He put an arm around her. "Did I ever tell you how perfect you are?"

"Again? Dad, you got to stop that."

There was no way he would ever stop telling his daughters how perfect he felt they were. It wasn't something he made a point of doing. It just happened. Those were the kinds of words he never heard growing up and it surprised him that his children could be so good. He certainly hadn't been and fortunately none of his bad traits seemed to flow into his children. "I don't have to stop and I'm not going to. Put up with it." He kissed her and said, "Go put on some music. Something old people like."

She got up off the couch and laughed. "No Snoop Dog?"

Her father called after her, "Put on Roy Orbison."

The music was put on and she returned to a quiet group. No one was talking. Allie sat by her dad again. "Boy, this is quieter than Gooshie's wake."

Al's chin sunk to his chest and his eyes closed. Beth snuggled closer to him and said, "Bad choice of words, Allie."

"I'm sorry, but I got to tell you, all of you have been dragging around and I know Gooshie would really be mad to see you like this. He was so happy here."

Sam looked at his young sister-in-law. "You're right. He was happy here. QL made a big difference in his life."

Al didn't bother to raise his head, "He made a big difference in ours, bigger than we ever let him know. Remember the road trip, Sam? The one in the other timeline. That was awesome."

Nodding, Sam had to agree. "Yeah, we never seemed to have the time to tell Gooshie about it. I regret that."

"Without having to wait for Gooshie, things might have been a lot different for us. We should have told him."

Allie looked at them both. "So, tell us."

He shook his head. "No, sweetheart, we can't. It has to do with alternate timelines. It's against the protocols."

"Dad, I'm not a spy for Al Qaeda."

Al looked at Sam and Sam looked back. Both inhaled deeply, but Al was the first to speak. "I'm not sure you're ready to hear about alternate timelines."

His little girl said, "I wondered about that, Dad. I mean, did you ever have a life where you didn't meet Mom and didn't have us?"

Beth felt him tense up under her touch and she nervously asked, "Did you, Al?"

It was time and he could lie a little to make it less painful for his bride. "I suppose and I wasn't very happy. In fact I was miserable."

Sam took a sip of brandy. "I don't remember all the timelines like your Dad does, but I have access to the archives. What I know, I know from reading and debriefing with your dad and Aunt Hannah, but he has actual recollections of all the variations of time we created."

The quiet overtook them all once again. There was anticipation in the air, though. Everyone waited for Al to tell of that lost timeline that Gooshie impacted so heavily. He debated. Telling would mean breaking one of the primary directives of Quantum Leap. His heart wanted to tell and it was the perfect night. "I guess I should start with the hardest part." His arms closed around Beth. "I love you, Beth. You're the only woman I ever truly loved despite what you're about to hear." He glanced out at the mountain and then at each member of his audience. "Okay, first thing first." Here was the lie, but he felt it had to be. "Beth, two years after I was shot down, the Navy notified you that I was dead. You met a really nice guy and remarried. By the time you found out I was alive, you moved on. So when I came home," he stopped again to fabricate the lie, "I didn't want to interrupt your lives. I decided it was better to never see each other again."

"But I saw the photo. I had to know you were alive."

He'd forgotten about Maggie Dawson, but another lie covered this problem. "In that timeline, she didn't take any photos that day. She died tripping a booby trap as soon as she got off a chopper." His eyes met Sam's and no one else's. Without words they agreed to keep the lie and Al continued. "Without the photo, no one knew I was alive."

Allie sat on the floor at Al's feet, laying her head against his knee. "Oh, Daddy, I'm sorry you went through that. It must have been horrible."

Her curly brown hair was so beautiful and he ran his fingers through it, just as people had done to him when he was a child. He hated when people did that, so he stopped. "It doesn't matter this time around, doesn't matter at all." Taking a deep breath prepared him for the confessions his family was about to hear. "It started in Washington DC. Sam and I had been in committee meeting after committee meeting trying to get the initial funding for Quantum Leap."

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_AUTHOR'S NOTE: All rights to this story are reserved. Neither the whole nor parts (with exception of short excerpts for review purposes) may be published elsewhere without written permission from the author. Thank you._


	2. Prologue

Road Trip - A Look before the Leap

The author thanks Bellasarius Productions, Universal Studios and any other creative entities responsible for Quantum Leap.

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**Prelude**

It was perfect fall weather for Washington. The temperature hovered in the mid-60s and the sun was bright and warming. However, Sam and Al didn't get much time to enjoy the beautiful city. Most of their hours were spent in front of the Senate Committee that would give final approval for the financing of Project Quantum Leap. After days of testimony and answering question after question it was time to wrap things up. One last meeting after lunch and then it was done. They would find out if their request for a five year commitment of 43 billion dollars would be given. If the project was denied, it meant the end of the Admiral's long career. Without Quantum Leap, there would be no reason to stay in the Navy and he would finally give into the linear timeline they were currently living in. It meant the "public sector," a phrase that made him cringe.

The Committee had a lot of good questions and most members were receptive to the unique humanitarian aspect of the project. Seven men and women sat on their side of the room while Sam and Al sat on theirs. Senator Janet Summerfield headed the group by quietly letting others take the lead. She maintained control with gentle persuasion and both Sam and Al were impressed with her leadership skills. In fact, they were impressed with the entire committee except for Patrick O'Reilly. For some reason, Senator O'Reilly just didn't get it. He didn't or wouldn't understand the importance of the science involved. The remaining members were polite, interested, and even enthusiastic.

The days had been long and had taken their toll on both men. Aspirin and coffee could only do so much before they became deficits rather than assets. So, when it came time for his closing address, Al was near complete exhaustion, but sometimes he did his best work at times when lesser men folded. Sam was explaining the finer points of symmetry and the next phase of quantum physics. It was the kind of conversation that intrigued the pair for days on end, but these were politicians. Sam watched eyes glaze over and he learned from Al when to give it up. He gracefully concluded his explanation using analogies appropriate for junior high kids. They started to perk up. "So, each moment of your life can touch another moment out of sequence."

Senator Summerfield thought she got it, but was more concerned about other things. "I'm not going to even pretend I understand your science. We have heard four days of testimony about your credentials and I believe you can do what you are telling us." She started laughing a little, "Right now, I think we are just about at capacity with the physics. So, would you like some time to prepare your summations?"

Al held up his hand, "Senator, I'm ready to proceed unless you want to break for lunch."

Senator Summerfield and the Admiral had been friends awhile. She knew he was never boring. "I think we can take some time here to listen. Keep it brief, Admiral."

He smiled, "I always do." It took a moment to pack away the papers in front of him and leave the table clear. Sam knew Al was writing his words while doing the busy work. In no more than twenty seconds he began, "Ladies and Gentlemen, you have heard about the science and the potential for this project in terms of the exploration of medical technology, space flight, its ability to intervene in major crises in our world, but it is more than that. A small ripple, a small change in a single life can create new histories. One person makes a difference and through Quantum Leap, we can make lives better, but who can determine all the after effects of those changes? There is a tremendous implication to this work."

Senator O'Reilly started squirming in his seat and Al took note. There was no love lost between the two men and the fact that O'Reilly made it onto the Committee always irked the Admiral. The Senator was getting ready to pounce and even Sam who usually didn't catch things like that could see there was going to be an explosion. His eyes met the Admiral's briefly and Sam knew something was up, but he didn't know how to prepare for it so he just kept quiet while Al continued.

The Admiral had the unique ability to make summations up on the spot, addressing the specific concerns the panel presented. Then when those questions were answered, he spoke from his heart. "We have outrageous potential here. The scientific community can merge with the sociology. In this project we have the potential to achieve a world where hunger is minimized, people live longer and more healthful lives, and wars are averted or if not, at least the devastation on civilians might be minimized. Maybe our men and women in service might have a better chance to come home alive."

O'Reilly started clicking his tongue like a nun in a second grade classroom. The sound wasn't lost on the Admiral who stopped talking and confronted the interruption. "Senator O'Reilly, if you want to say something, just say it."

The Senator heaved a long sigh making his disdain obvious. "Admiral Calavicci, I was wondering when you'd throw the war card. We all know your record. We all know it is commendable, but when are you going to stop using Vietnam to finagle excessive amounts of money from your government? I think we've repaid already by indulging your whimsical experiments in science time after time. First Star Light where we gave you an Apollo mission. Follow that up with Star Bright which brought us very little and now you want us to believe that Quantum Leap can stop wars?"

"I didn't say that, Senator."

O'Reilly stared at Al with contempt bordering on hate. "Your kind of arrogance amazes me. Your six years MIA in Vietnam has never been worth 43 billion dollars. You volunteered for service and knew what you were getting into. Why would you think we owe you anything other than a thank you?" He sat back in his chair and folded his hands on top of his abundant gut. "Now, start your summation again. This time leave war stories out of it."

Cruel silence sealed the room. No one in earshot could believe what was just said. Sam looked over at the Admiral expecting to see Al's color go crimson, but if anything, the older man grew pale. Al leaned into the microphone, grabbed O'Reilly's eyes with dark brown daggers and wouldn't let go. He quietly told the man, "You, sir, are a God damn pig." He had to take a few deep breaths. His gaze never veered from the Senator. Standing up to the accusation the Admiral said, "I apologize to the rest of the Committee for calling Senator O'Reilly a God damn pig, but as with everything else I have said over these past four days, it is the truth. Thank you." His hand wiped across his face and he picked up his hat.

Without another word, Al walked out of the chamber leaving Sam alone to face the stunned group. He looked at them, a deer in headlights. Senator Summerfield broke the intensity. "Dr. Beckett, I'd like to say a few things here. First, I publicly want to dissociate myself and the other senators from any of Senator O'Reilly's remarks. They were rude, ridiculous and in no way indicative of the general opinion of this Committee. Second, I would like to take a ten-minute recess before we hear your closing statement so that we can gather our senses and react sanely and with objectivity. Certainly Senator O'Reilly has angered all of us a bit and that needs to be assuaged before we go on. And finally, I want to apologize to you and Admiral Calavicci for the totally unwarranted remarks we just heard. I am sorry." She swung a gavel and its loud crack gave everyone permission to slither into a corner and to try to regain some composure. It also gave Sam a minute to try to find the Admiral.

He bolted out of the chamber and into the hallway. There were plenty of blue suits, but none with gold braid on the cuffs. The Admiral disappeared. Sam had a sinking feeling. This was going to be a very bad day and it wasn't even noon. He only had time to check one more place. He pushed the door of the men's room and found absolutely no one at all. "Al, where are you? Damn." He took the opportunity to splash some water on his face before going back into the inquisition.

Marble floors make footsteps echo and he listened to each click of his heels as he plodded back into the chamber. They were all there, back in their chairs. Before he had a chance to sink into his seat, Senator Summerfield began. "Dr. Beckett, the committee will be recessing today and I'm afraid we will have to postpone our vote on your proposal. I'm not sure exactly when the vote will come up, but it should be no longer than two weeks. Since you've been working on this proposal for more than two years, I hope two more weeks won't inconvenience you further. Maybe when you're leaping through time, you can correct what happened here today." She slammed the gavel down and the committee left without anyone saying anything to anyone.

Sam was taken aback. This couldn't possibly be good news. He stopped biting his lower lip when he thought he tasted blood. God knew where Al took off. The Admiral had a history of disappearing when certain nerves were touched. Obviously Senator O'Reilly hit a good one. The only thing he could do was go to the hotel and hope Al eventually would return to the suite.

He grabbed his briefcase and loaded it with all the papers. Each scrap reminded him of another part of the project. It was the culmination of a lifetime of education and dreams and it was gone. All chances for Quantum Leap were blown out of the water by Al's response to O'Reilly's taunt. Their upcoming conversation wasn't going to be good.

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The door to the suite slammed hard and loud. Even the light in the entry buzzed with the vibration. He threw his hat on the table with such anger that it skittered off landing upside down on the floor, but he didn't even bother to pick it up. There was mad and then there was fury. This was raging fury. It was all fucked and it was his fault. Every God damn time he got close to getting what he wanted, he fucked it up. There was an added bonus this time though. He fucked it up for Sam Beckett, too.

Somewhere in his gear he had gym shorts. There was a boxing club not too far away that had a heavy bag with a big need to get pounded and he was in the mood to do it. Five minutes later, he was in jeans and a sweatshirt, his gym clothes in a bag and jogging, no make that running, to Foster's Gym and Fight Club. If he couldn't go back to alcohol, then he'd go back to beating the crap out of inanimate objects. Made sense to him.

Sam got to their suite and found the Admiral's uniform unceremoniously dumped onto the bed. It wasn't like neat freak Al to do that so Sam knew emotions were running very, very hot. At least he'd been there and now was probably out doing something to let off steam. A quick look skyward and a prayer asked God to help keep Al from drinking again. That struggle was on the verge of being conquered and the thought of Al would backsliding seemed inevitable.

Who knew where the man was? The best thing to do was sit tight and wait for him to return. In the meantime, Sam hung up the uniform, picked up the hat from the floor, grabbed the phone and ordered lunch.

Time passed so slowly until Sam realized, he'd eaten hours earlier. He pushed the cart back out into the hallway, sat down in front of the television and now the news was on. It was 6:30 and they had dinner plans at eight o'clock. Sam was getting anxious and pacing seemed appropriate. He only traversed the room three times before he heard the door opening. "Al?"

The Admiral entered with a determined attitude and under a great deal of control, almost too tight a control. "Yeah. I went to the gym. Felt damn good."

Sarcastically he said, "I'm so glad." Sam wanted to shake the man. "I was worried about you. You left a little fast."

He tossed the gym bag on the floor and flopped into an overstuffed chair. "Who wanted to wait around to hear them shoot us down? I've been shot down - twice. It ain't a good time."

Sam sat across from him. "I'm not sure we were shot down."

Al bolted upright. "What?"

"Senator Summerfield said to come back in two weeks. She even cracked a joke about maybe the project could come back and fix this timeline."

The statement made Al's emotions flip. "Then we got it." His stunned face had a guppy quality, his mouth hanging open.

"How do you know?"

Still not quite ready to believe what he just heard he said, "You have a photographic memory. Tell me exactly what she said."

He had to think a moment, but he repeated, "'Since you've been working on this proposal for more than two years, I hope two more weeks won't inconvenience you further. Maybe when you're leaping through time, you can correct what happened here today.' That's it word for word."

The smile was big and Al wasn't one to smile big too often. "She's getting O'Reilly thrown off the committee so we can get the unanimous vote." The vote for the project had to be unanimous. When asking for 43 billion dollars for a secret project, you'd better have unanimity on your committee. "Kid, we got it. No doubt in my mind."

Sam wasn't convinced. "Glad you think so. At least when we talk to Gooshie tonight, you can be enthusiastic." The Admiral got that "who" look on his face. "Oh, Al, the programmer we've been courting for almost a year, we're taking him to dinner."

"That's right. We're going to Verdi's. Shit, I have to shower and change." Standing up he pointed at Sam. "You have to change, too. Verdi's is dressy."

"Speaking of which, I hung up your dress blues."

"Thanks, but I'm not wearing my uniform. We have a party to go to after dinner."

"Party?"

Al started into his room. "Yeah, I met a buddy at Foster's. Invited us to a party at SecNav's tonight. We're going."

"The Secretary of the Navy? Who's your buddy?"

Without turning around Al said, "The SecNav." He walked away with a lightness in his step and singing "When I get older, losing my hair many years from now. . ."

The Admiral's mood turned back to his typical self-confident identity, but Sam was a little disturbed that he could move from one to the other so quickly. Something was still eating his friend. As he went toward his room, he wished he had Al's insight. Actually he was praying that Al's insight was correct and that the funding was theirs.

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Verdi's - the fabulous fabulously expensive restaurant made anyone who was anyone sigh and that was saying a lot. Sam made the reservation months earlier. He and Al were finally meeting the man they had spoken to over the phone for nearly a year. This was the only person with the right stuff to be Chief Programmer for Quantum Leap. The regal dining room would show him that Quantum Leap intended to take care of him very well.

Sam and Al entered the foyer where tuxedoed staff took their coats. The maître d' immediately came to them. "Buona notte, Admiral Calavicci. Good to see you again."

Sam whispered in Al's ear. "Again? Have you been everywhere?"

"Just about." He smiled at Carlo. "Good to see you too, Carlo. We have a reservation. I think we requested the corner table."

Carlo checked the book and became ashen. "I don't have your name here, Admiral. I don't understand."

At posh restaurants, Sam was used to being ignored when in the Al's company. The Admiral had been a national hero since he brought home a badly damaged space craft in one piece with every crew member safe and sound. That kind of notoriety people remembered. Sucking in his ego, Sam said, "_I_ made the reservation. Try Beckett."

The book was checked again and Carlo smiled. "Si, Dr. Beckett. Forgive me. I'll put you at the corner table as per the Admiral's request. Is the third member of your party still coming?"

Al took control from the younger man. He usually did when it came to these kind of fancy places. "Should be here in a few minutes, but we'll take the table now."

"Certainly, sir. Please, Admiral Calavicci, Dr. Beckett, follow me."

They made their way through the restaurant and sat at what appeared to be the most distinguished table in the place. Again, Sam whispered, "How do you do that?"

Al said nothing, but thanked Carlo for seating them and sat on the far side so he could view the entire room. "When you grow up Italian, you learn. Always sit with your back to the wall. I had an Uncle Vito who didn't remember to do that."

Their waiter came over immediately. Al looked up, "Two fingers Glenmorangie straight up."

Sam always got flustered when people waited on him in fancy restaurants. The most elegant place he ate in when growing up was the Elk Ridge Lodge. His mother used to make him wear a sport coat and his clip-on tie. "Um, seven and seven."

The waiter wasn't sure he heard correctly. Al stepped in telling the waiter, "He's from Iowa."

As the waiter walked away Al started laughing. Sam wasn't amused. "You know I'm from Indiana. Why is the Midwest funny around here?"

"Unless you're a graduate of Notre Dame, Indiana is farm boys with no culture and when you order . . ." his nose crunched up in disgust, "a seven and seven, well, you're not doing anything to change their opinion."

"I like seven and seven. I'm not going to apologize for it."

"No one's telling you to. In fact, I admire you're willingness to be yourself."

A busman came by with water. Sam took a sip and thought it was time to tease his friend. "So, Mr. Urbane, where did you pick up sophistication? The orphanage?"

He'd been kicked out of St. Paul's Orphanage at 16, so it was quite a few years behind him, but many years of practice made it easy for him to hide the cringe in his heart every time the place was mentioned. Covering again, he smiled, "You'd be surprised. Those nuns taught us a lot."

"Did they teach you about single malt scotch, too?"

The drinks arrived. Al shook his head. "No, that was Brother LeRoy." He took a sip of the scotch. "Glenmorangie makes a good scotch." He put the glass down and savored the smoky 18 year old scotch. "Okay, what is this guy's name again?"

The Admiral had selective memory. He could rattle off the 175 step checklist for taking up the space shuttle, but if he didn't want to recall a name, then he didn't. Too many times Sam enlightened him and he wasn't going to say the many multi-syllabic Eastern European name again. "Just call him Gooshie. That's what he asked us to call him."

"Gooshie, yeah." Al nodded toward the front of the restaurant. "Please don't tell me that unmade bed coming toward us is our programmer."

Sam smiled and got up to greet this red-headed, mustached, sad-sack, computer geek. "Yeah, that's him." Enthusiasm was squelched a little when he realized that two opposing forces were about to meet face to face. "You be nice to him. He's the best programmer in the country, probably the world."

"I'm nice." In his head, the Admiral thought his entire reputation was shot. He had a hayseed and a walking pocket protector at the same table with him and neither had the good fortune to be a beautiful lady. "God, make this night get over quick."

Gooshie was a fur ball of enthusiasm. Just like a kitten discovering catnip he gregariously shook Sam's hand. "Dr. Beckett, I am so pleased to meet you face to face. This is an honor. I have studied your Nobel work and it is astounding." He looked over at the Admiral. "And you sir," his hand went out, "I have admired you for so long. I can't believe I'm actually meeting you. I watched with rapt attention when you landed that disabled spacecraft. It was astounding."

Seemed Gooshie liked to be astounded. Al shook the eager hand and motioned for him to sit. "Thanks, Gooshie. I'm glad you could meet us here." All three were seated as the Admiral continued. "I guess we're here to get your answer to our offer."

It was a little too straightforward for Sam. "Al, let's have dinner first."

"No, Dr. Beckett, the Admiral is right. Let's get business over and then we can chat." The waiter came by. "I would like a martini, stirred, not shaken." The waiter left. "You know, James Bond has it all wrong. You never want to shake a martini. You chip the ice that way and it dilutes the alcohol. Much better to be stirred gently than shaken. Bond did nothing for the martini drinking world by telling people to shake instead of stir."

Nodding his head, Al agreed. "You know, you're the first person I've heard to agree with me on that. Never shake a martini. I'm impressed, Goosh."

"Thank you, sir." He put both elbows on the table and leaned toward the other men. "So, did you get your funding?"

The next hour was spent rehashing the four day of testimony, the explosion by Senator O'Reilly and Al's retreat from the chambers. As they ate dinner, Sam and Al watched various bits of food drop onto Gooshie's shirt and jacket and yet both men found him fascinating. He definitely fit into the work they were about to embark on and they wanted a "yes" from him before they finished their meal. Al brought up the question again. "So, Gooshie, you joining us or what?"

"I'm not sure, yet. I need to meditate on it and tomorrow I'm flying to Tibet to get centered at a Buddhist Temple there."

Sam was shocked. "I didn't realize you were Buddhist."

Gooshie shoved a forkful of polenta into his mouth, but that didn't keep him from talking. "Oh, I'm not. I just go there when I have big decisions to make and this is a big decision. See, I'm happy teaching at Georgetown and I have tenure. Quantum Leap would mean a complete career change."

Al just shook his head, "Gooshie, Gooshie, Gooshie, what does being safe get you in life? You want to fly, then you got to trust your wings."

"Interesting, Admiral, if I understood what you meant, but I have my ticket and I'm going. I'll be back in about two weeks, just about the time you'll find out if indeed you get your funding. It's a marvelous fluke of timing, don't you think?"

Sam's bubble burst for the second time in one day. Al saw the dejection in his young friend's eyes. "Well, Gooshie, if you need two weeks, then you get them."

The programmer wiped his mouth and sat back extremely satisfied. "What a delicious dinner. This was delectable. Do we have time for dessert?"

Having a sweet tooth belying his age and rank, the Admiral knew the dessert menu at every restaurant he frequented. "Yeah and the panna cotta here is really good. So is the panforte."

"Panforte? I haven't had good panforte in ages. Let's get some."

Sam looked at them, "What's panforte?"

Gooshie barged in with a definition to the delight of the Admiral. "It's Italian for strong bread, but actually it's like chewy candy, nutty, chocolate cakey kind of thing that you get in little slices because it is so rich. It's hard to find good panforte."

"And Sam, this is good panforte."

Okay, then, panforte for all."

The dessert was sublime and all three men reveled in the meal. Gooshie sat back and said, "You know, since I'm not coming back for two weeks and you won't know about funding for two weeks, it seems like a good time for the two of you to take a vacation.

They looked at each other and said in unison, "Together?" While the two men thought of themselves as friends, they both knew they were work friends, not the kind of friends who traveled together for fun. Sam was the first to say it. "You know, I really could use the time right now. My mom and sister are visiting my cousins' place. It would be great to see them. What do you think, Al? Want to come to Indiana with me?"

Spending a week with a woman or twelve of his choice sounded like a better use of his time. The Admiral shook his head. "I don't think so. There's a brunette in Delaware with big brown eyes that I need to visit."

Gooshie was giggling like a child whose birthday party was going to be visited by Sy, the Reptile Guy. "Oh, you have to go, Admiral. When I come back, I want to see your pictures. Oh, and you'll need a car. You can use my Citroen."

Al started laughing, "A Citroen, you actually drive a Citroen?"

"It's a wonderful car, but you may be right. Dr. Beckett is taller than you and me. He might not be comfortable in it."

Now Sam laughed. "Yes, you are a bit shorter than I am, Al."

"I'd like to see you in the cockpit of the Shuttle. You'd never fit in."

Gooshie continued to smile. "A road trip is perfect. You'll get to know so much more about each other and if Quantum Leap gets funded, then you two better be as close as friends can be. Your lives will depend on it."

The little guy hit on a profound truth. They were friends, but Quantum Leap was more than a science research trial. It was going to test limits that no one could even project. Somehow Sam and Al were going to be tested through the time travel experiment and each had to know the other would go beyond all human possibilities for the other. They were already friends, but not at the depth they needed to be. Maybe the two weeks before the decision was a good thing. If they found they couldn't or didn't want to stand in death's path for the other, then they had to call the whole thing off.

The Admiral thought for a moment. "Indiana is west of here, right? But I got to tell you, we're not going in a Citroen. I'll get us a Caddie with a good sound system."

"Then we're going?"

Why he agreed didn't seem so obvious suddenly, but it might be a diverting amusement. "Sure."

Gooshie was practically jumping up and down. "This is great! We'll all be having adventures. Isn't that wonderful?"

Half an hour later they parted at the front door of Verdi's. Gooshie got into his Citroen, a tin can car with no right to be driven on American highways, yet that's where Gooshie was going, back to Georgetown to prepare for his lab the next morning.

Sam and Al had walked to the restaurant. Al liked walking in DC. The evening air was cold, but it was the kind of cold that keeps you interested in the world. They began to walk toward the SecNav's town home.

Sam was a little uncomfortable at parties where he didn't know people and was a bit anxious. "Al, I won't know a single soul there."

"So you'll meet them. Listen, kid, if you want to keep getting funding for your projects, you have to learn how to deal with the fed heads. You have to get them on your side and it's hard not to be on the side of someone you party with. Just don't embarrass yourself." He took a drag on his cigar, "Or me."

"Yeah, well, same to you."

Al laughed out loud, "At the SecNav's? Not likely. This is a rowdy bunch. Let me give you a run-down of who might be there. Remember names, like you have any trouble with that. They like it when you use their names."

The remainder of the half hour walk was filled with a who's who. The most important people for Sam to talk to were Secretary of the Navy Hunter Davis and Senator Abby Cassidy. "Make sure you see her. She's an up and comer. Doesn't hurt that she's cute, too."

"Is sex all you think about?"

"Usually." He smiled and continued, "Hey, Abby is cute, but she's also smart, ambitious in a good way and she's one of the few people you'll meet tonight that can talk physics. I've had many a nice conversation with her."

"I'm sure."

Al was almost offended, almost, "Hey, I never sleep with someone who's funding a project I'm working on. It's bad politics." He laughed again, obviously ready to have some fun.

Sam wanted to know one more thing. "Are we really going to go on a road trip?"

"You serious?"

"Well, yes. I'd like to go to Indiana. My mom, Katie and her husband are visiting my cousins in Albion. If we have two weeks, I'd like to see them."

"Then go."

"Come with me. Gooshie is right. I think we're pretty good friends already, but Quantum Leap depends on us intimately knowing each other."

Joking with his naïve friend Al looked very stern when he asked, "How intimate?"

Sam blushed and then realized the joke. "Trust me, not that intimate." He wasn't letting Al off the hook. "Tell me now. Do we go or not?"

A drive to Indiana didn't sound like a boatload of fun, but the kid and Gooshie were right. Al had a premonition that somehow he and Sam needed to be in sync with each other on a level they hadn't reached yet. He wasn't about to admit that, though. "How far is Albion from Chi?"

"Shy?"

"Chicago. Geez, what planet did you grow up on?" They turned a corner. "There's a tailor there I like a lot. Haven't seen him in months. You give me two days in Chi and you got a deal."

"Deal." Sam was happy he would see his mother and sister again, but still downhearted. He had planned to have his funding and his Chief Programmer by now and neither happened. Talking through his disappointment wasn't going to happen soon. Davis' house loomed ahead and they made their way up the steps and inside.

Al immediately saw half a dozen people he knew. Sam felt out of place. His uneasiness wasn't lost on the Admiral. "Okay, kid, stick with me for awhile. I'll hook you up with people you can talk to without embarrassing yourself." He almost got a smile from Sam. "Hey, Sam, lighten up. It's a party. You have nothing to prove to anyone tonight. Just have fun."

Having fun was one area the genius needed to work on. His idea of fun was running multiple equations in his head to decipher a cryptograph. This talking to people and shmoozing wasn't his thing. He attached himself to the Admiral and they made their way through the room.

Al spied a uniform on a man leaning against the bar talking to Hunter Davis. "Damn, A.J.'s here. Come one." He took Sam's sleeve and pulled him through the room. "A.J., how the hell are you?" Al slapped the tall man on the back. "You still playing lawyer?"

Captain A.J. Chegwidden looked down at the little Admiral with a huge smile on his kind face. "Yeah, you getting another divorce?"

Al laughed, "Low blow, Captain. Careful, I outrank you."

"Which is something I will never figure out." Obviously these two men had history and it was a good one. "So, what are you doing in DC? You being court-martialed?"

"Cute. No, I'm trolling for money."

"One of your better skills. What's the project?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you, but . . ." he pulled Sam into the conversation, "This is the brain behind it. Sam Beckett, Nobel Prize winning physicist, meet A.J. Chegwidden, the worst SEAL to make it out of Vietnam alive."

The Captain laughed out loud, "Hey, I pulled your ass out of there." He held out his hand to Sam. "Good to meet you, Sam. You really win a Nobel Prize?"

Sam blushed, "Well, it was a weak year."

Suddenly Al remembered a connection between A.J. and Sam, "Hey, you both are musicians! Sam here plays piano, guitar, sings and stuff." Looking at Chegwidden he said, "You used to play horn, real sweet too."

Trying to join the conversation Sam asked, "Where did you meet?"

"First time we met was at Annapolis. Al was recruiting pilots and I thought that might be a way to go. I turned him down, but he took a lonely plebe under his wing and showed him the ropes. I learned more about Annapolis than any man needs to know, but it was a hell of a good time." The rest of the story was a tale Al didn't need to hear, but A.J. wasn't aware of it. Chegwidden freely said, "We met again when our SEAL unit went in to bring some of our guys home." He sneered at the memory. "Ones the VC told us weren't there. Al and a few others were held by some real gems deep in the jungle and it took a bit of work to find them and bring them out."

Al didn't reminisce about Vietnam with anyone and it seemed to him that too much information had already been given out. "That's old news. We met. We're friends. No need to get into it." Another old friend appeared across the room and he said, "Can I trust the two of you not to trade stories about me?" He asked the bartender for a snifter of Drambuie.

A.J. and Sam looked at each other and laughed. The scientist said, "Maybe, maybe not. Think of it like Schrödinger's Cat."

The reference to one of the great theories in physics was not in A.J.'s realm of understanding. Smiling at what was going to be an interesting conversation Al told Sam, "Now you get to explain Schrödinger to an attorney. Good luck." He picked up his aperitif and went on his way.

The pit of Sam's stomach emptied into a cavernous hole. Small talk with one of Al's friends at a party where he knew virtually no one - he was supremely uncomfortable. A.J. sensed Sam's situation. "Al's in good form tonight."

"Is he ever not in good form?"

"He's had bad days. I've seen them."

"Come to think of it, so have I."

"I'm not sure we're talking about the same thing." A.J. ordered another scotch and soda.

"You mean Vietnam?"

"I got to keep my mouth shut. Al doesn't like people knowing about his time there. I shouldn't have brought it up." A.J. took his drink and said, "Okay, who is Schrödinger and why is his cat important?"

So Sam and A.J. discussed the finer points of an entity that can simultaneously be both alive and dead. It was a child's theory to Sam. For an attorney, it was as complex as rocket science. For that they needed Al's input. After all, he really was a rocket scientist, but the Admiral was too busy flirting and having a fine time.

The night continued for several hours. Sam made the rounds sometimes with Al, sometimes with A.J., sometimes alone which is how he ended up. Alone and at the piano, he softly played sad song after sad song. Al kept looking up and he saw Sam deep into his own head and not even knowing people were talking to him. A.J. and Al were telling Annapolis stories to Abby Cassidy. She turned an ear to Sam's noodling. "He's good, but he only plays those depressing tunes."

Handing his club soda to A.J. he said, "Sam Beckett can play anything. I'll prove it." Al walked across the room which had thinned out a bit since they arrived. His last few steps were quick and he jumped up onto the piano, his feet dangling over the side. Sam startled. "Okay, Sam, give me a C." Sam didn't move. "A C, Sam, give me a C." A single finger hit a single note. Leaning over to see the keyboard Al told his friend, "Better make that an A flat." The lower note was hit. "That's it." Then in full, not-so-good voice Al started in, "Next time you're found, with your chin on the ground, there a lot to be learned, so look around. Just what makes that little old ant Think he'll move that rubber tree plant?" He gestured to Sam, "Play, kid."

Sam's hands joined in the song with Al and an entire room turned its head. "Anyone knows an ant, can't Move a rubber tree plant, but he's got high hopes, he's got high hopes. He's got high apple pie, in the sky hopes." Looking at Sam he cajoled, "Sing, boy. We need some life here!"

Two voices continued on. "So any time your gettin' low 'stead of lettin' go Just remember that ant." The Admiral threw both hands toward Sam. "Take it!"

Sam soloed, "Oops, there goes another rubber tree. . ."

Al picked it up. "Oops, there goes another rubber tree. . ."

And together they finished with, "Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant!"

The applause and appreciative laughter spurred on the duo and they became the evening's entertainment. Pretty soon, the SecNav's town home was a two-bit bar with request after request being thrown at them. Al snapped his fingers in regret. "Damn it, kid, we should have put out a tip jar."

When they finally got back to the hotel, it was past three in the morning. Sam was giddy more from fun than alcohol. "That was a great party."

"Told you you'd have fun. Get some sleep. I guess we have some driving to do tomorrow."

Sam yawned. "Oh yeah. I forgot. Goodnight, Al."

Going into his room Al smiled and told his friend, "Goodnight, kid."

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_AUTHOR'S NOTE: All rights to this story are reserved. Neither the whole nor parts (with exception of short excerpts for review purposes) may be published elsewhere without written permission from the author. Thank you._


	3. Day One On the Road

Road Trip - A Look before the Leap

The author thanks Bellasarius Productions, Universal Studios and any other creative entities responsible for Quantum Leap.

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**Day One - On the Road**

The party left its effects on both men. Al was used to odd hours, sleeping when opportunity presented itself rather than according to a set time. Sam was methodical. He had a ritual for sleeping and breaking it put him off kilter the next day. By the time they both decided to get up, it was past nine, an hour Sam hadn't slept past in decades. Al ordered up some room service and they started packing up. The food arrived and they sat down to get something inside them.

Al started in on a piece of bacon. "I'm hungry. This is good."

"Too much fat isn't good for you. Your arteries are blocking as we speak."

"Eat your alfalfa. My arteries are fine." They were. The Navy demanded physicals every year and his was usually intensive. The health of a former prisoner of war and astronaut wasn't newsworthy unless that health deteriorated. The Navy didn't like bad press, so they were extra careful with Admiral Calavicci.

"I can't figure how you eat as much as you do and not gain weight. You need to patent the technique." Sam poured skimmed milk over his shredded wheat.

Using his fork to point at the bowl of cereal in front of Sam, Al mumbled through a mouthful of cheese omelet, "How can you eat that stuff? It looks like packing material from the mail room." Biting into buttered toast," You don't know what you're missing."

The reaction he knew he'd get didn't stop Sam from saying, "Yes, I do. I'm missing a heart attack like the one that killed my dad."

He shoveled more omelet into his mouth, relishing each bite. "Trust me, when I die, it won't be from a heart attack."

A swig of orange juice and Sam warned him, "No, you'll die from emphysema. Stop smoking."

"I haven't smoked a cigarette in 20 years and I don't inhale cigars."

"That's right. You'll get cancer of the mouth instead."

"Just full of joy this morning, aren't you?" Al hated conversations about how people died. He hated funerals, wakes, memorial services, and all the other stuff that went with death. None of it appealed to him. Especially he didn't like considering his own death. Yeah, it was going to happen some year, some decade far off in the future, but he had too much to do to consider it could even be a possibility for him. It was time to change the subject. "Okay, we got to get out of here before noon. It's about four hours to Pittsburgh. I figure we can stop there tonight and get into Indiana tomorrow. This place we're going - east or west end of the state?"

"West. It's not far from Ft. Wayne."

"Ah, Ft. Wayne, the nation's cultural capital."

Sam kept eating and mentioned in passing, "I want to stop at the Wall before we go."

"Go ahead."

The answer wasn't what he expected. He thought Al would jump at the idea. "Don't you want to come?"

"Not particularly." The monument to fallen Americans wasn't a good experience for Al. His presence was requested at the unveiling and he stood for the obligatory pictures, but he left shortly after. Unlike the thousands of others there, he didn't approach the granite memorial or look for those familiar names. "Nothing for me to see."

Words could hurt and those cut through Sam. "My brother's name is there."

"I know, Sam. You should go." The newspaper gave him something to hide behind. Sam was miffed and the Admiral didn't want to deal with it. "I'll pick up a car at the rental agency."

The knock on the door was welcomed as a reason to bolt from the table. "I'll get it." Looking through the peephole Al saw a bellman holding a small case. He opened the door.

"Sorry to disturb you, Admiral Calavicci, but this was dropped off at the concierge for you and Dr. Beckett. I was told to be sure to hand deliver it to you."

Suspicions were easy for the Admiral. "Who gave it to you?"

"He told me his name was Gooshie and that he hoped you'd have a good road trip."

"Thanks." He took the case telling the bellman, "Hang on a sec." Al slipped into his room for some cash. The fellow deserved a tip. The bellman was grateful and Al brought the case to the table. "We got a good-bye gift from Gooshie." The little vinyl case was dropped onto the table. "What's in it?"

It looked like a small suitcase, a very small suitcase. Sam flipped up the clasp and lifted the top. Inside were twenty cassette tapes and a note. Sam smiled form ear to ear. "It's music! This is great. Look at all this!" the case contained everything from the Elvis to Rod Stewart to the Beatles to Motown to Broadway. "What a terrific gift."

"Yeah, the little guy's got style." He picked up the note. "Here, listen to this. 'Dear Dr. Beckett and Admiral Calavicci, I hope you have a great time learning about each other. I don't know if you'll have time to listen to all of this, but I thought you should have some music. I think you should listen to Man of La Mancha, but not until the last day of your drive. Have fun and try not to think of Quantum Leap. This is a time for you to think of each other. Sincerely, Gooshie.' Weird little guy."

"You know, he is taller than you."

"Your point being?" He glanced into the case. "Any Stones?"

"You're a Rolling Stones fan?"

"Isn't everyone?" Walking out of the room he sang, "I can't get no satisfaction. . ."

Calling out Sam said, "It's going to be a long, long trip," and he laughed, "especially if you insist on singing!"

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The rental car was parked and the two men walked toward the Vietnam Memorial. About fifty yards away from the stones Al began to slow down. "Listen, kid, I'm going to see what Abe's got to say. I'll meet you on the steps in fifteen minutes."

The Admiral left Sam to face the specter of his brother alone. If that's how it had to be, then fine, but until Al could see that other people suffered from the war as well, Sam held little confidence in the possibility of a true friendship. He walked right to the engraving pronouncing that Thomas Beckett died in Vietnam and that this monument told that truth to the world. His fingers outlined each letter and memories flooded back.

Their last Thanksgiving together, Tom sat at the table in his dress blues, a proud Navy SEAL, a graduate of Annapolis, eager to serve. Those last few days were some of the best and worst of Sam's life. He treasured the moments spent with Tom, but felt ashamed that the last basketball game Tom saw him play in was a defeat - and not just a defeat for the team, but Sam messed it up and blew their last few opportunities to win. Big brother didn't tease him. Tom put his arm around his brother's shoulder and told him not to look back. The past wasn't the place to live.

Now Sam was building, if he got funding, his own monument, and one that would allow him to look back in ways no one had dreamed before. He pressed his face against the cold stone and whispered to his brother, whispered so softly he was scarce sure he made any sound. "Maybe, we can bring you home alive, just maybe. I'm going to try, Tom. I promise."

Sam turned around and walked toward the Lincoln Memorial. In the distance he saw the Admiral sitting on the steps, his head in his hands. Maybe it was good Al didn't go with him. His time with Tom was personal. Al didn't need to be sharing anything that special with him. He wasn't sure Al understood the kind of loss he felt and explaining it was beyond even his genius. "Ready to go, Al?"

The Admiral looked up. "I didn't hear you coming. Sorry." As he stood up, he handed Sam the keys to the car. "You drive first. I'm tired."

Conversations were difficult this day. Both men thought they made a mistake in taking this trip, but Sam's mother was waiting to see him and the Admiral was getting the chance to spend time in Chicago. Each figured they'd put up with the stuff that was boring to allow the other to enjoy whatever it was they wanted to do.

The car started out of DC and headed northwest toward Pittsburgh. It was early afternoon. Al planned the route and figured it would take maybe four to four and half hours to complete this first leg. Sam opened Gooshie's gift and asked, "What are you interested in hearing?"

"Something sweet, quiet. I want to sleep a little."

Looking through the stash, Sam pulled out "Jim Croce?"

Croce wasn't one of his top ten, but the tone was right. "Sure, what the hell."

The cassette was slid into the player and as DC disappeared behind them, Croce began singing, "If I could save time in a bottle."

Sam hated driving into a setting sun, but it was going to be dark soon enough. Al was asleep in the seat next to him. The Admiral didn't rest easily though. There was a lot of tossing and turning. It was hard to sleep well in a car, though and Sam dismissed the occasional grunt as a response to potholes. The sun left the sky and darkness made the driving a little easier. It would be nice for Al to do some driving. Sam was getting tired himself, but the Admiral was still sleeping and it seemed inappropriate to wake him.

Fifteen minutes later, it was almost completely dark out and Sam started listening to Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. It started out a little loud, so he adjusted the volume and began to hum along. The Admiral started getting a little more restless, but still didn't seem to want to wake up. Sam was thinking back to when he first heard the music, back in 1967. He was 14 and the Beatles were the coolest band ever.

But in 1967, Al was in a different world, one where violent Vietcong radicals kept him prisoner. As Sam drove, his subconscious heard the music and transported him back to hell. The guard used bamboo-soaked cane to break skin and bone. Crying out with each blow he begged, "God, no! Let me die! Let me die!" His pleas continued as he drowned in a growing river of blood.

Sam jumped out of his skin with the terror he heard. He slammed on the brakes, flung the car into park and ran to open the door on his friend's side. "It's okay, Al. Wake up. It's only a dream." A gentle hand rested on the Admiral's arm. The nightmare was not abating. Sam continued his attempt to wake his friend. "Al, you got to wake up here. Come on." It took almost another two minutes, but weary, frightened eyes began to come back to the present. "It was only a dream."

The Admiral panted in short breaths, winded from the devastating dream. "Easy for you to say." A shaking hand wiped away the sweat dripping into his eyes. "Shit." Knowing that the dreams came often was embarrassing enough, but having Sam witness them was beyond embarrassing. He felt a humiliation belying his Admiral status. "I'm sorry, Sam." He tried to get out of the car, but the physical exhaustion of his nightmare weakened him. A second and then a third try finally got him standing "I'm fine. I just need a drink."

The one thing they didn't have was water. "You sure you're okay?"

Al started walking a little, trying to get the images out of his head. He found a tree to lean against and slid to the ground. Sitting with his eyes closed, his head leaned back against the tree trunk. Sam never thought the Admiral came close to looking his age, but right now, here in this darkness, he seemed ancient.

"I'm sorry, Sam. This was a bad one."

"No shit." A small laugh from the Admiral was exactly what he hoped for. It allowed the older man an opportunity to take in a deep breath. As the calming air escaped Sam asked, "You interested in letting me in on it?"

For a long time, Sam wanted to be privy to that chunk of Al's life when he spent year after year in the hands of torturers and villains of the most perverse kind. No one yet heard those stories because the Admiral's voice could not make them sound out. It wasn't stoicism that kept his secrets. To him, it was absolute cowardice. He couldn't say the words and if he couldn't say them, then maybe the things they did to him really didn't happen. But Sam needed an answer to his question and there was only one he could give, "No."

"Why?"

He simply shook his head. "I wish we had water. You don't know how good water can taste." It was the most information he'd ever given his best friend.

"I guess water was at a premium." Maybe through innocent conversation, he'd find out more.

"Not when it rained." Again, more information slipped out than he wanted. "Forget it. We had water. Wasn't always clean, but we had it." He didn't add the part where for how many months his cage was set in water so deep that sitting down was impossible. Kneeling wasn't much better for guys his height. He stood, half drowned in the Mekong for days, water sloughing his skin off leaving him ripe for the kind of sunburn that blisters in an hour and stays blistered for weeks. The minute he was pulled from the water he knew he would be staked out for the sun to do its work on him. Then when blisters covered him, the whips would begin again. They beat down on him and he couldn't take it "God, no!" The dream was back and he curled into a ball. "No!"

Sam sunk to the ground and took the Admiral in his arms. "Al, come on back." The Admiral fell limp. "Al?" Suddenly the concern for mental health was replaced by worry for his physical "Where are you, Al?" Sam straightened out the Admiral's body, laying him on the cold ground. "Al, come on, don't do this."

Al slowly returned to the land of the living. "God, it hurts." He tried to rise, but weakness was overpowering him completely.

"Stay still." He took a deep breath. "You're going to be angry, but I'm taking you to a hospital."

"No, you're not"

It was just common sense, but then who said sense was common? "Al, the nightmare came when you were awake. This is not good."

"I don't give a shit. I'm not going to a hospital. I'll be fine. I've done this before."

The man's mulishness aggravated Sam. "Listen to me. You just had a nightmare while you were talking to me. Do you understand that isn't normal?"

"Understand this. I'm fine."

"Hey, I'm the doctor. If I want an opinion on moon rocks I'll ask you." Standing up, he held his hand out. "Let's get back into the car where it's warm.

Help made him feel old and decrepit, but he accepted it. "I'll be fine. Jesus, you're worse than San Diego when I got back from Nam."

Back at the car, Sam closed Al's door and then got in and closed his. "I know you think it's morbid curiosity, but it's not. You have to open up about this stuff. Something is going on with you and I can't help but think some of it has to do with Vietnam."

"Gee, Sherlock, you think so?" He went into defensive mode. The easiest way was to avoid confrontation, so he closed his eyes. Pretending to be asleep, he ignored the presence of this friend.

Sam knew there was no real sleeping going on, but this particular battle was lost. He knew if was to win the war, then he had to allow the Admiral his small victories. The engine was started and Sam pulled back onto the road. "I'll try to find a place to get us something to drink, but someday we're going to talk about what happened there."

And someday he'd see a frozen hell from the back of a flying pig.

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There was no need for lavish digs and the pragmatist in Sam pulled into the parking lot of a Motel Six just outside Pittsburgh. No reason for a swanky suite. He nudged Al. "You awake?"

Al's eyes opened and he saw the motel. "This is where we're staying?"

"We don't need anything fancy. It's good enough."

Al got out of the car as if nothing had happened. "You should have let me drive a few hours."

"Like that was going to happen." Al ignored the comment as if he hadn't heard it. "You feeling better?"

Al was his old cheerful self. "Me? Hell, yeah. Four hours of sleep does a body good." They entered the office and found a young man behind the desk. He wore a name tag and also the telltale physical features of a person with Down syndrome. Al smiled at him and asked, "Got a couple of rooms for the night?"

"Yes, sir. Welcome to our motel."

"Thanks," Al checked out the name tag, "Phil."

Phil asked them, "Did you say two rooms?"

Two rooms seemed like a waste of money to Sam. "One room with two beds will do."

"No." Al jumped on Sam's request almost before Sam made it. "Two rooms." He whispered loud enough for Sam to hear. "He snores. Better put us down in a corridor away from your other guests."

The clerk laughed. "I bet he doesn't snore worse than me." Phil pointed to the book in front of Al. "Would you please register? Do you want both rooms on one credit card?"

Jumping in again Al said, "Yes." He looked over to Sam. "This one's on me." A Bic pen sat on the registration form and Al began filling in the blanks. "Phil, anyplace around here where we can get something good to eat?"

"There's a Chinese restaurant down the street. They make good mu shu pork."

"Thanks." He finished the registration, took the keys and tossed one to Sam. "Heads up." Looking back at Phil Al said, "What time is checkout?"

"Noon, Sir."

The travelers made their ways to their rooms. They didn't talk much. Neither knew what to say. Sam broke the silence first. "Give me half an hour. Then we'll get some dinner."

"Half an hour's good." Al slipped into his room before Sam had any chance to say anything. He didn't notice that Sam did the same thing.

Out of sight of each other, they threw suitcases on the bed, hung up winter coats and decided to shower. Stopping on the road's shoulder made them both a little dusty. Al had an added need for showering. Somehow showering after his dreams helped wash the ugliness away. He knew it was crazy, but he didn't care. It was something he did and no one seemed to understand. None of his wives did. Beth probably would have, but that dog wasn't hunting anymore. The others were nice enough ladies, but he couldn't find the passion for them that he still carried for Beth. Times like this, times when the dreams came were hard. It was the time he felt most alone and unwanted. Problem was, those feelings fed into the dreams. The incident on the road didn't bring any relief. If anything, he dreaded the upcoming days. Somehow he had to get away from Sam and out of this road trip. He wasn't ready for anyone to share his terror, especially Sam. The kid had these romantic notions about dying there and he needed them. His brother was killed on a mission to rescue POWs and Sam wanted to believe it was a noble death. As far as Al was concerned, no one who died in that hellhole died nobly. None survived nobly either.

Sam stepped into the shower and tried to figure out what was going on with the Admiral. Obviously something haunted him. The episode in the car proved that. It also proved that Sam was right. Whatever it was, it had to do with Vietnam. The war was a huge event in Sam's life. The word of his brother's death crushed him. People told him to be proud and he was. His brother's life was lost while saving others, actually while trying to save others. The mission was a failure, but that difference didn't matter to Sam. Tom gave his life for his fellow Americans. Nothing was nobler than that. The good doctor held onto that belief like a life raft in open ocean.

Thirty minutes went by and Al emerged from his room to find Sam in the hall. "Did I keep you waiting?"

"Just got here. I called the restaurant. It's only two blocks. Want to walk?"

They started west toward the Lotus Chinese Restaurant. Neither spoke until they were nearing the door. Sam broke the silence. "We have to talk about what happened today. You know that, don't you?" The evil glance he got back from Al told him not to talk about it, but Sam was insistent. He held the door open for Al. As they passed through into the gaudy, red-lanterned foyer he kept talking. "I'm not letting you off the hook."

Al held two fingers up to the hostess and they were ushered in. The table offered first was in the middle of the room, but Al wanted to be more isolated. Sam was going to make him talk about stuff and no one else needed to hear what he was going to say even if he wasn't going to say much at all. The host led the pair to the table Al wanted, the one in the far corner, at the darkest edge of the room.

The waiter brought over two glasses of water and a pot of tea. Sam took the menus and asked him, "Give us a few minutes, okay?"

"But bring some shu mai." The waiter nodded and left. "I love shu mai."

"Shoe my?"

"Potstickers, Beckett. With all your education, you are a food idiot. You got to be adventurous in life. Eat something other than roast chicken and baked potatoes on occasion. You might find you like it."

"I like what I like."

"How can I argue that?" The water glass was lifted, "Cheers."

Sam clinked his glass against Al's. "Too bad we didn't have any water earlier. You could have used it."

The glass was set down. "Well, didn't take you long to bring that up."

"Al, you scared me. I didn't know what to do."

"You did fine except for the hugging thing. You can drop that stuff anytime now."

He poured out some tea. "I wasn't hugging you. I was trying to keep you from hurting yourself."

Sam wasn't going to let this rest. Al needed to say something, but he wasn't about to get into his time in Vietnam. No one heard those stories. Even he didn't. They stayed in his head. Every so often, one snuck out and the nightmares would begin. In a few weeks, they ended and he was safe again for however long. "Okay, you kept me from hurting myself. Thanks."

"I'm not looking for thanks. I want to find a way to keep the nightmares from happening again and I can't do it. Only you can. If you don't talk about what went on in the camps, then the dreams will never stop."

"Then the dreams won't stop, Sam." The teacup was hot, almost too hot to hold, but he forced himself to feel the burning. It temporarily made him forget the pain of the past. This was something he controlled and could deal with. The cup cooled to where it wasn't hurtful. Maybe if he stared into the younger man's eyes, the kid would finally believe him. "I don't talk about it. I never have and I never will, so give it up."

He was frustrated. "Then why are we both driving to Indiana? You certainly could have found some kind of diversion in DC for two weeks. I mean, you're divorced again."

"Like you have a wife in New Mexico just dying to make pancakes for your breakfast." Sam's face became ashen and Al knew he crossed the line. "Listen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, Sam. Someone _should_ be there waiting for you. It's Donna's loss. You'll find someone that will stay with you. Luck like mine is only for a special few like Mickey Rooney, Liz Taylor, take your pick." Somehow he had to get Sam's mind away from Donna. He drew attention back to himself. Sam would buy that as a diversion.

He would maybe tell the kid something about the war, but then maybe not really. There was only one thing he could confess about Vietnam. "You would have liked my first wife, Sam. Beth was something else. That one I could have stayed married to, but after I was MIA for two years, she had the Navy declare me dead. She married some attorney. I always thought he was the one who convinced her to give up on me. The bastard. They got married on my birthday, June 15th. I always figured I would die for real on June 15th too. It would be poetic, don't you think?"

Sam lived through two wives with Al. He even was best man for the fifth one even though he held little hope that it would last. This confession about Beth was new information. With everything he knew about his friend, this bit took him by surprise. "I'm sorry, Al." The shu mai arrived and both men became silent until they felt no one could hear again. "I'm not prying, Al."

Al poured chili sauce on the potsticker and stuffed half of it into his mouth. "Yes, you are." Never having eaten potstickers, Sam followed suit and before Al could warn him he tossed one into his mouth dripping with chili. "Sam, don't!"

The farm boy's eyes turned into saucers when the spicy chilies hit his tongue. He swallowed the potsticker whole and grabbed the water. "Oh, my Lord! How can you eat those?"

It was the first good laugh all day. "Sorry, kid. The shu mai aren't hot. It's the sauce. Try one plain. It will help get the chili taste out of your mouth." He continued to laugh. "We have got to get you eating with diversity."

"Diversity is wonderful in hiring practices. In food, it's a death sentence. Good grief." He took another swig of water. "You can just down those without a problem?"

He dunked another shu mai into the chilies. "Looks like." The dumpling was eaten with relish. "Really, Sam, eat one without the sauce. Water isn't helping you. You need starch or dairy to get rid of hot stuff."

"Why should I trust you?" He gingerly poked at a virgin potsticker. "You trying to pull a trick on me? If you are, I'm not up for it."

"I promise you, they're not hot. It's the chilies that are hot."

He didn't completely trust the Admiral, but at least they were having some fun. "Okay, but I'll leave you here in Pittsburgh if you're lying to me."

"There's a threat." Sam bit into the very mildly flavored appetizer and smiled. "These are good."

"Would I lie to you?" Sam shot him a look. "Okay, so I would, but I didn't this time."

The conversation remained light and the discomfort they had earlier vanished as steaming Shrimp with Lobster Sauce and Szechwan Eggplant and Ground Chicken were served up. Al had to steal a shrimp or two, but he warned against Sam attempting to steal some eggplant. It was hotter than the shu mai.

Dishes were cleared and Al requested some club soda. The drink came with almond cookies. "I love almond cookies." A piece was broken off the big cookie and he chewed with vigor.

"Where do you put it?"

"Put what?"

"Everything you eat. You should weigh 200 pounds at least."

Maybe it was time to tell the truth. "I can eat like this because I'm missing 16 feet of small intestine and five inches of large. When I got home from Nam, my gut was public housing for all sorts of parasites. Aren't you glad you asked?" He smiled hoping Sam would let it go.

"That explains a lot."

"It explains why I eat a lot and that's it." He kept eating his cookie. "And I like eating, so maybe it wasn't such a bad thing."

It was a horrendous result of his incarceration. Sam was naïve, but not stupid. He let it go. It was time to start laughing again. "If you like eating, wait till you get to the camp. My mom makes the best fried chicken."

"I love fried chicken."

"You love everything, but Katie will be there too and she makes apple pie that is even better than Mom's. I don't know how she does it, but it's out of this world. You have to eat it just about half an hour after it's out of the oven and it's still warm and the vanilla ice cream melts all over it."

"Did you ever put a hunk of cheddar cheese on hot apple pie? Now, that's heaven."

Sam started eating his cookie. Crumbs clung to his lips. "You know, Katie says the pie is best with cheddar cheese, but I like ice cream better." Wiping his face he told Al, "Katie's husband is in the Navy. He's a Petty Officer."

"Yeah, where are they stationed?"

"Great Lakes Naval Air Station in Illinois."

It's nice that you keep in contact with your sister. You're a good brother."

Sam finished chomping the cookie and was barely understandable when he said, "You would have been a good brother. Too bad you were an only child."

Al was shocked. He considered Sam his best friend, but he hadn't told him about Trudy yet. Then again, he never told anyone about Trudy. Maybe it was time. Somehow this trip was making him admit stuff. Gooshie told them it was important to get to a level of complete trust. It was hard. He'd said so much already, but without any more thought he heard himself saying, "I wasn't an only child. I had a little sister like you."

"You do? Are you serious?"

He gulped down the last of the soda wishing it had a good splash of scotch in it. "Yeah, I'm serious, but you put her in the present tense. Trudy is dead."

Sam's heart broke for his friend. The sadness in the older man's face was obvious. "What happened?"

No need to go into raptures, but spit it out, Calavicci. Let someone else know that beautiful soul was on earth and loved you. "I grew up in an orphanage. You know that, but Trudy got sent to Willowbrook. When I was eighteen, I tried to get her out, but she died from pneumonia. I guess that happens in institutions."

Sam knew the name Willowbrook. It was infamous for the depth of its atrocities committed against people with mental illness. When the scandal broke, the pictures were vile and a tremendous reform took place. "She was mentally ill, huh?"

"No, not at all. She had Down Syndrome."

"Why was she there?"

His hand gripped the glass and Sam could see the tenseness returning. "Because the great brains taking care of us figured there wasn't any difference. She died there and I didn't know. They didn't tell me, didn't even try to tell me. I should have gotten her out of there, Sam. I should have done something to help her."

It was pretty apparent to Sam. "You were a kid. You couldn't have done anything."

The subject had to change. Why he brought it up was beyond him now, but there was another prop to play with. He picked up one of the fortune cookies. "Let's see what's going to happen to me." The cookie broke open and he read, "God danced the day you were born." He leaned back in his chair laughing. "Now, there's one for you." He slid the other cookie toward Sam. "Read yours."

A few seconds later Sam read, "There will be many surprises. Unexpected travel is likely."

"Ha! It's a day late, but right on the mark. Actually, both of these are yours, kid." He tossed the fortune at his friend. "Makes more sense for you than me."

Sam picked up the check and they walked back to their rooms. It was only another six hours to the camp so they decided to take their time getting up. They'd leave around ten.

Al got into his room and sighed in relief. A check of the time told him he had 14 hours to relax and no reason to talk to anyone about anything. On the other hand he didn't have any scotch or a book that looked interesting and television didn't appeal to him at all. With nothing to do he did what he always did when that was the case. Quietly, he left the motel, dug his hands in his pockets and started walking hoping to get tired enough to sleep through the night without the dreams terrorizing him.

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_AUTHOR'S NOTE: All rights to this story are reserved. Neither the whole nor parts (with exception of short excerpts for review purposes) may be published elsewhere without written permission from the author. Thank you._


	4. Day Two On the Road Again

Road Trip - A Look before the Leap

The author thanks Bellasarius Productions, Universal Studios and any other creative entities responsible for Quantum Leap.

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**Day Two - On the Road Again**

Morning came and Sam woke early, but getting into bed at ten the night before sort of made waking early a given. He wandered up to the front office to get a newspaper. The same young man was behind the desk.

"Good morning, Dr. Beckett. Sleep good?"

Sam had no experience with people with mental retardation. For some unknown reason, he spoke loudly and slowly. "Yes, I did, thank you."

Phil sort of scowled a little. "I can hear you fine and I can understand you, too."

"I'm sorry." He asked for a newspaper. Phil pointed to the kiosk and Sam went back to his room paper in hand and foot in mouth. The room came with a coffee pot, instant coffee and tea. He brewed a cup of Lipton and settled in for another few hours.

Across the hall, Al was still asleep. The night before he walked to Pittsburgh's downtown and found a nice bar. One scotch and soda was all he drank, but it tasted good and the slight buzz calmed him. Getting his drinking under control really helped him appreciate the finer points of good scotch with the benefit of remembering everything he'd said and done. This time he met a group of patrons coming in for a drink after the opera. The foursome was discussing the finer points of Mozart's _Don Giovanni_. Al overheard and said, "You should have heard George London," but he didn't expect anyone to hear.

One of the young men asked him, "You saw George London sing Giovanni?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop." He went back to his drink.

The man pursued him, "But you heard George London. We heard Sherrill Milnes tonight."

Al had an Italian's appreciation for the most bizarre theatrical form. "Milnes would be good, but he's a baritone. Did it work?"

Both women at the table sighed and said, "Yes."

After sharing a laugh, they shared an hour of conversation. Then his new friends went on their way as did he. Hailing a cab, he got back to the motel just past one with a mild high from the liquor and the good time. The yawns began and he crawled into bed believing the night would be calm.

For the most part it was. Around dawn he sat bolt upright out of breath. It had to have been a dream, but he didn't remember what was going on in his head. He curled back up in bed and nodded off about half an hour later. He woke up again around nine and was surprised at the hour, but he felt rested. With noise from the TV in the background, he showered, dressed and packed up. Figuring Sam had been up for hours, he crossed the hall overnight bag in hand and knocked on the door. "Room service, Dr. Beckett."

The Admiral was unique in several ways, not the least of which was his voice. Try as he might, he couldn't disguise that sound in any way shape or form. Sam opened the door and was greeted by a cheerful Al Calavicci dressed in blue jeans, a red silk shirt and a string tie. Using both hands to point at the outfit Sam said, "You expecting Hoot Gibson?"

"What are you talking about? I wear this all the time in New Mexico."

"We're going to Indiana, Al, not a hoedown in Taos."

"So, there's a dress code for Indiana. What do I need? Overalls and a flannel shirt?"

Sam kind of sort of looked a little bashful when he quietly said, "I was hoping you'd look more like an Admiral."

"You mean the uniform?" Sam's lack of response told Al the answer. He had to laugh. "I'm not wearing my uniform to a camp in the middle of nowhere, Indiana. You think this looks weird? I'd look like a real idiot." He had to stop to laugh a little more. "I tell you what, if we go into town for dinner or something, I'll put on the dress blues. But I'm not showing up on the doorstep of Lake Witcheewatchee wearing my uniform."

Now Sam was laughing and turning about fourteen shades of red. "I guess you're right. Maybe we'll go into Ft. Wayne tomorrow for dinner."

"Ft. Wayne. How nice. Tell me, what kind of wine do you serve with Big Mac?"

He shook his finger at his friend. Smiling at him he said, "You're going to be surprised."

"I damn well better be." Pointing to the suitcases in the hall he told Sam, "Pack up the car. I'll check us out. Pull around front."

Five minutes later, they were back on the road with Al driving this time and Sam was antsy. "I'm not sure I like the idea of you driving."

"I'm fine, Sam. I slept really well last night and I didn't wake up until nine."

"How can you sleep so late in the day?"

"I went to bed around one thirty. That's not so bad."

"Why so late?"

"Took a long walk. Felt good."

"You shouldn't go walking alone in a strange city."

"Listen, Pops, I know Pittsburgh. I knew where I was going. I'm a big boy now and Mom said I could go."

Sam knew he was being overprotective, but the incident at the committee hearing and the nightmare yesterday morning, well, they frightened him. Al usually had good color regardless of the season, but he was looking a little pale and a little more tired than usual. "Okay, I'll stop." He reached in the back seat for the case of music Gooshie sent along. "Let's get some tunes going here. What are you interested in listening to?"

"Read off some to me."

Looking into the case Sam saw a bizarre collection of stuff. "Let's see. Steppenwolf. The Beatles, Sgt. Pepper. Tina Turner. The King's Singers. Roy Orbison. Patsy Cline. Man of La Mancha, but we're not supposed to listen to that until the last day. Rigoletto because we're both such opera lovers."

"Speak for yourself, boy. I like opera. Used to go all the time when I was in New York. Sat up in the cheap seats."

"You like opera?"

"You don't? You have the degree in music."

"Yeah, but screaming women never was my idea of entertainment."

"Depends on why they're screaming, kid."

It took too long for Sam to catch the double meaning in Al's comment and that always embarrassed him. "Why do you say things like that?"

"All you have done today is ask me questions. Why? What? How? When? Let's just talk like people. Put on Steppenwolf. I feel like I'm born to be wild today." Sam opened the cassette and slipped it into the dash. "Now, Sam, you know how to play that cassette, don't you?"

"You kidding?"

He turned the sound system on and hit the volume to full blast and with the sun behind them they both sang as loud as possible, "Get yer motor runnin'. Head out on the highway. Looking for adventure in whatever comes our way."

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The sign at on the side of the highway indicated that Camp Amazing Grace was five miles down the side road they just turned onto. Sam was driving now and the smile on his face told Al that his young friend was excited, so he thought he'd mess with him. "Camp Amazing Grace? Is this a cult thing, Sam?"

"Cult? Of course not. My cousin Dave is a Methodist minister."

"I heard of Methodists. We didn't have many where I grew up. Are they safe?"

Sam caught on. "Okay, okay. So the camp is faith-based. They'll let a heathen in."

"Good thing." He stared out the window. It didn't look like anything good would be anywhere around here. It was flat winter farm country with nothing to see. "They live here all year round?"

"Yeah. Dave and Deb got the call for Amazing Grace about 20 years ago. They love it. Both their boys grew up here."

"Boys? You know, you never told me who's going to be at this festival."

"Well, Dave and Deb Erskine. Dave's my first cousin on my Mom's side. Deb is his wife and they have two boys, Jason and Tom. Jason is set to go into the Navy. His younger brother Tom was named after my brother."

In his head, Al sighed - another bit of Vietnam to confront. "So that's Dave and Deb - that's cute, Jason and Tom. Your mom's name is Thelma and your sister is Katie. Who's the husband?"

"Great guy. He's in the Navy, a Petty Officer, great guy. I told you that, right?"

"Often."

"Sorry. Anyhow his name is Chuck Zdenek."

"Gesundheit."

"Yeah, it's kind of hard to say. We tried to convince Katie to keep Beckett, but Chuck didn't want her too."

That rankled the Admiral. "He didn't want her to? It wasn't his decision to make."

Sam shrugged. "I guess Katie decided, too. It's her name."

"Yeah, it is her name. That's the point."

"Let it go, Al. I like him. He's got at four inches on me and all muscle. Chuck is a great guy."

Something didn't feel right. Whenever someone was called a great guy so often it usually meant he wasn't as great as he seemed. "Katie must be an old-fashioned girl, huh?"

Sam laughed. "Katie? No chance." The car was turned off the two lane bump fest they were driving on and onto a dirt road. "Mom and Katie should be there already." The grin ran clear from one ear to the other.

The terrain changed a bit. There were more trees now and the scenery more wooded and in some ways seemed more isolated. "Damn, what happens if you get sick out here?"

"Are you planning on getting sick?"

"No, it was just a question."

"Actually, it's a good one. You make sure you marry a nurse practitioner. Deb should have gone to med school. She's a natural doctor. Then, when you're building the new house, you make the attached garage space into an infirmary."

Sam pulled into the camp driveway and Al got his first view of the paradise Sam couldn't wait to see. As far as he could tell, it was a small house on one end and a meeting hall kind of thing at the other. People started coming out of the house and waving at them.

As they got out of the car, Al said, "It's the God damn Waltons. Do we call to each other before we go to sleep at night?"

The Beckett finger shook at the Admiral. "Be good. This is my family and you're a guest."

Of course he was a guest, but Sam just told him he was the outsider and it wasn't a good time for him to be feeling like one. Certainly Sam didn't mean it the way he felt it and that was his own responsibility. He ordered himself to stop feeling sorry for his lot in life and just have fun with these people who had a wonderful naïve love for each other that was at one time deep and another quite silly. They were in silly mode now and the Admiral had to smile. It was going to be an interesting visit.

Sam ran into his mother's arms and lifted the lady off the ground. "Mom, I am so glad to see you. You look great."

"Sam, put me down." She laughed. Her feet finally reached the ground again and she straightened her sweater. "What got into you?" He wasn't listening. His arms were around Katie now and she was getting the same treatment. Thelma shook her head and wandered over to Al. "You must be Admiral Calavicci." She held out her hand. "I'm Thelma Beckett."

"I sort of figured that out and please call me Al."

"I was hoping you'd say that. It's hard to think of Sammy's friends as being Admirals."

Now Al wore the grin and he was enchanted by a life that allowed a Noble prize winning physicist's mother to have a hard time thinking her Sammy had friends that were admirals. "He has a lot of friends who are senators and congressmen, too. Might be a general or three in the mix as well."

She blushed just a bit. "Oh, I know. I still think of him as my little boy. All that other stuff he does, that's some Dr. Beckett person that Time Magazine writes about occasionally."

Al watched Sam go from cousin to cousin, back to sister, to sister's husband and then back to mom. He stood to the side and started pulling cases from the car's trunk. A pair of hands showed up right next to his and pulled out a garment bag. Looking over he saw a teen-aged boy, a young man closer to the end of his teens than the beginning. "Hi, Admiral Calavicci. I'm Jason Erskine."

So this was the next Navy recruit. "Hello, Jason. Thanks for the help."

"No problem, sir. Welcome to the cage."

"The cage?"

The boy laughed at the inside joke. "Yeah, Camp Amazing Grace - C A G. Tom and I didn't like the sound of 'cag,' so we started calling the cage and it stuck." Jason closed the trunk. "I'll get the bags inside. You go meet everyone."

"Thanks, Jason." Al stood alone for a moment. Somehow he had to be away from people at night. He was having trouble enough as it was with the dreams, but now a living breathing Tom was there to remind him constantly of Sam's dead brother left behind in Vietnam and the nickname for this paradise was "the cage." He spent six years living in camps living in cages. Too many triggers were here and while he didn't go for all the psych crap thrown at him, the word trigger stuck. He knew them when he saw and heard them. This was a week of triggers.

But you never know, he tried to toss those oddball ideas out of his head. On the other side of the group he spotted the other outsider, Katie's husband Chuck something. He smiled, but Chuck didn't respond to him. Something was cold about the guy and Al knew there was one person he wasn't going to get along with well. Maybe the guy knew he was an admiral. It's hard to be on vacation and have your job follow you. Al opted to give the guy a break and not let his own insecurity get transferred onto a person he hadn't even met yet.

He was into his own head so deep that he didn't see the rush of Becketts and Erskines coming at him. Before he knew it, everyone was back in the house, a beer was in his hand and in unison at least three people invited him to sit down.

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They sat in the comfortable living room holding a minimum of four conversations at once in which each person was involved in at least two. Sam was trying to find out all the gossip about everyone he was ever related to. Katie and Thelma were huge founts of information for him. The Erskine sons, Jason and Tom were less interested in their cousin's stories than they were in the Admiral's They didn't get a real astronaut at their home often - make that never. Needless to say, Al's uncanny ability to spin tales enthralled them with the account of the shuttle mission that went berserk. Chuck sat in the circle, but again, his posture seemed off.

Al couldn't help it. Chuck bothered him. The man said maybe two words since they arrived and those were, "Welcome, sir," and Al would swear he heard Chuck mumbling right after that, "Fucking admirals think they own us."

Had they been in another place, Al would have called the Petty Officer on it, but this was Sam's family and his feelings weren't all that hurt. His concern was for the mental health of a guy who had two such obvious opposite sides of his personality. He wasn't going to push it at all. The tactic he chose was to avoid Chuck when he could and when he couldn't, avoid him anyhow.

It came time for dinner and this home was used to big parties. All nine people sat around a table that could easily seat half a dozen more. Food started being placed on the table and it kept coming. It was a farm banquet - fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn pudding, green beans, carrots, a big salad and homemade buttermilk biscuits. The big surprise for Al was a bowl filled with sautéed escarole fragrant with garlic and olive oil. "Okay, I can buy everything on the table being farm food, but greens with garlic? That doesn't sound like the Midwest to me."

Thelma placed the bowl near Al. "I wanted to make something in your honor. Sam said, unlike him, you like your veggies and I found this recipe in an Italian cookbook." With a mom's smile she teased, "Do you know how hard it is to find prosciutto in Indiana?"

"You got prosciutto in there? Excellent!" He helped himself to a plateful. Sam's lip began to curl in disgust. "Beckett, you don't know what you're missing."

"I'm missing garlic breath and green gunk in my teeth."

"Try a toothbrush. That'll take care of both problems."

Dave laughed and held his hands out. Al looked on wondering what was happening. Everyone took the hand of the person next to him. He was Italian, so when in Rome . . . Dave began, "For food in a world where many walk in hunger; For faith in a world where many walk in fear;  
For friends in a world where many walk alone; We give you thanks, O Lord. Amen."

The prayer was another surprise for Al. "I liked that, Dave."

"Thanks. I found it when I was looking for a prayer for this meal. I thought it might strike a chord with you."

Al wasn't sure what that meant, but he was heartened by Sam's family's care in preparing for his arrival. Thelma searching out prosciutto, Dave choosing a prayer that would mean something to him, he started to think Sam was wrong. He wasn't a guest at this gathering. It was graduation day from friend to family. And a bigger surprise, he liked it.

The meal ended with Katie's infamous apple pie with a choice of toppings - vanilla ice cream or a wedge of nice sharp cheddar cheese. Everyone wanted ice cream except for Al and Katie. "You know, Admiral, they just don't understand that apples and cheddar are perfect."

"Your brother is a food wimp. Took me months to get him to try a taco."

Chuck spoke up. "I'm with the doc. I hate Mexican food."

Sam wiped a dribble of melting ice cream from his chin. "Oh, I like it now, Chuck. Eat it all the time in New Mexico. It's good. What's that stuff you got me eating, Al? The chocolate stuff on chicken."

Fourteen year old Tom almost gagged. "Chocolate on chicken. That's gross."

"Not chocolate like in a Hershey bar. In Mexico, they use chocolate a lot more than we do. When you don't sweeten it, it's used in savory foods too. Sam's talking about chicken molé. It's very good. And you haven't ever tasted hot chocolate until you have it in Mexico. They put cinnamon in it and it's great."

Jason was intrigued by the Admiral. Everything he said was fascinating even when it wasn't. "Admiral Calavicci, have you been everywhere?"

"No, I don't think so. It just seems like it."

Sighing, the young man said, "Sometimes I don't think I'll ever get out of Indiana."

A lifetime of unique encounters had its trade-off and had Al the opportunity, he might just exchange his extensive array of experiences for the stability of a family, for a place where he knew he was always welcome and loved. "Don't underestimate Indiana. There are things in the world not worth seeing. That's the problem with going too many places too many times."

Chuck offered an opinion. "There's a lot to see and do. He can't do it all from Indiana."

Al understood the unsaid words behind the comment. It was an invitation for the Admiral to shut up. No one seemed to notice except for Chuck, Al and Katie. The evening was going too well to make trouble and Chuck wasn't worth it. "True enough, but unless you're careful, you never really know what you got until you don't have it anymore." His dessert plate was empty. "Sort of like pie except this time I'm hoping seconds are okay."

Sam held out his plate. "And I get whatever's left."

Everyone returned to the living room for more conversation and laughing. It was approaching midnight when Thelma brought things to an end. "It's time for me to go to bed. Morning comes early here."

Sam yawned. "Yeah, it's been a long day. How are we doing sleeping arrangements, Dave?"

The camp director stood with his hands on his hips. "Okay, Aunt Thelma is already settled into the guest room. Jason will throw a sleeping bag in Tom's room and that way the Admiral can take Jason's bed. Sam, I thought you could take the first floor room in the lodge. Katie and Chuck are already set up on the second floor."

Sam nodded. "Sounds good."

Al held up his hands. "I'm not throwing a kid out of his room. I can go to the lodge. Sam, you take Jason's room. You'll have more time to spend with your mom."

The look on the Admiral's face told Sam the true story. It was less likely that others would know about his nightmares if he was away from them, but Sam was hesitant to leave Al alone if the dreams returned. "What if we both use the lodge? Then Jason can stay in his room."

Older brother teased Jason just like Sam remembered his brother Tom teasing him. "What? And take away the joy of throwing things at the kid all night?"

Al was insisting. "Really, Sam, you stay here. You know I like a little space on occasion."

That was true, but Sam still hesitated in letting Al be alone without someone nearby, but he was going to lose the argument eventually. Might as well give in now. "Well, okay. I'll help you get your stuff over there." He walked out to gather Al's suitcase and garment bag.

Thelma touched Al's shoulder and smiled as she planted a mom's kiss on his cheek. "See you in the morning, Al."

In his head he told himself, "They **are** the God damn Waltons," but he simply said, "Goodnight, ma'am. Sleep well."

Sam looked at his friend as if he'd grown two heads. This was a different Al, one who actually seemed like someone who could use a mom on occasion, even at his age. "Let's go, Al. Grab a flashlight."

Al stared Sam down, his eyes tightening into slits. "Why do we need a flashlight?"

"For the bears, Al. You shine the light in their eyes and they run into the woods." His friend didn't really believe him, but Sam could see a little uncertainty. "The path is dark, Al. That's all. There are no bears around here. Right, Dave?"

Playing along Dave said, "Not too many. Mostly moose now. They're mean this time of year. Better bring the moose deterrent whistle."

Everyone laughed at the greenhorn. "Okay. I've been had. See if I believe any of you again." He snapped the flashlight from Jason's hand and winked at the boy. "You want to get anywhere in the Navy, kid, you got to learn not to scam an Admiral." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chuck whisper into Katie's ear and she looked away from him, her eyes to the floor. Boy, he really didn't like Chuck, but then not everyone liked him either. He said his goodnights to all and walked down the dark path to the lodge, Sam at his side.

Even in the dark Sam's smile was visible. He took a deep breath. "Doesn't the air smell good out here? I'm so glad we came, Al. Gooshie was right. We needed to do this."

There wasn't anything to say. This trip was for Sam. He was along for the ride and that was okay. All he wanted now was a place to listen to some music and read before going to sleep. "Your family's terrific, Sam. Jason's going to be a great Navy officer. The kid's sharp."

"Tom's thinking about the Navy, too."

"Your family prepared to see them go off to war?"

"It's peacetime, Al."

But the world's military tenuousness was something Sam didn't pay a lot of attention to. The Middle East was a powder keg waiting to explode. "It won't be peacetime for long. Trust me."

"You've been wrong before."

Paraphrasing Sam's comment from the day before Al said, "Hey, I'm the Admiral. If I want an opinion on appendicitis, I'll ask you."

They walked into the lodge. Al expected something like a hunting lodge with overstuffed chairs, a bar in the corner and a huge fireplace. What he saw was basically a big barn with stacks of tables and chairs stacked to one side. Basketball hoops were across from each other at the near end. It was a barracks where at least fifty kids at one time could be found sleeping during the summer months. At the back was a massive kitchen equipped to handle dinner for all of those kids, chaperones and camp counselors. "I thought you said this was a lodge."

"It is." Al walked a little away from Sam. "This is a camp, Al, not a resort in Lake Tahoe."

"No kidding." His head scanned the cavernous space. "I've had worse digs. Okay, is this the room Dave was talking about?"

Sam was going to have fun at the Admiral's expense. "Yes. Dave figured your ego would just about fill this room."

But the Admiral was ready. "Really? You were supposed to be here, buddy. Not me."

He laughed. "True. While this would be a lovely space for you, I think that the chaperone's private room might be better." Pointing toward a door next to the kitchen he said, "It's this way." They entered a room no more that ten by ten, but it had a small private bathroom with a shower. "I realize it's not the Hotel Monaco, but it's clean."

"I told you, I've had worse digs." There was a nightstand with a lamp and a clock. The double bed took up most of the space and in the corner was a big old comfortable chair. "I think I like this." Plopping down in the chair, the soft cushions practically devoured him. "Hell, I might just fall asleep here."

Sam sat on the bed facing his friend. "Speaking of sleep, I'm nervous about you being out here. If you start having dreams again, no one will be able to help."

"And your point is?"

Stubborn, recalcitrant, bull-headed, obstinate - Sam had a full array of choices to describe his friend. "I know you don't want help, but someday you're going to need it and maybe by then no one will be around who'll want to."

Al stared at the ceiling, the well-being socked right out of him. "Yeah, well, I've been there. I survived it before. I can survive it again."

Deflating the Admiral wasn't his intention and Sam felt a twinge of guilt. "Listen, I'm sorry. I want to help you."

"Right, it's what you want." He faced Sam. "But it's not what I want. I don't need you to help me. If and when I do, I'll ask."

"But you won't ask."

"So why do you keep offering? Sam, let it go. Every so often I get into this nightmare shit and then it all goes away. Hell, it's happened at least. . ." he counted on his hand, "At least three times during Starbright and you never knew and I got through it."

"Was it going on when I found you smashing the vending machine with a hammer?"

Sam had to leave or Al was going to say something that could make the next few days very uncomfortable. "Let it go, Sam. I need to do this alone."

"Gooshie thought we needed to get beyond ordinary friendship, but you're not ready for that. I'm not sure when you will be, but I'll be here, okay?"

Now he had to tell himself to let it go. He was as close to blowing up at the kid as he had been in a long time. He sure as hell didn't need fixing and if he did, he could do it himself. "I'll see you in the morning."

The invitation to leave was evident. Sam patted his friend on the shoulder as he made his way out of the room. "Goodnight, Al."

Al wanted to knock the hand off his shoulder, but pulled in all his instincts and just let it pass. The kid was his friend, his best friend - no doubt. There were times though when Sam let his press dictate his opinion of himself. He was the century's smartest human being, an intellect DaVinci would have coveted. Trouble was he still didn't seem to realize there were a lot of kinds of intelligence. He lacked a basic understanding of the world. But Al was at fault too. He was tight and closed-up and even Sam wouldn't break through his protective front, that's if he had anything to say about it.

Dragging himself out of the chair, he got ready to crawl into bed and read. Somewhere in his bag was a book about something completely irrelevant. Irrelevance appealed to him at that moment. He dug a little deeper in his bag for that book. Short stories, good nighttime reading. None of it went on too long. A little Raymond Carver out here in the back woods also seemed terribly appropriate.

His military training never rested though and he heard a noise. It was quickly recognized. Chuck and Katie were on their way up the stairs. Sounded like their room was directly above his and every floorboard in the place creaked. With a small smile he said to himself, "I hope they're not planning on making babies tonight. That's all I need to be listening to."

After hanging up his shirt, he padded into the bathroom and turned the water on to wash up and brush his teeth. The bathroom turned out to be a megaphone into the Zdenek's rooms above and Al felt uncomfortably voyeuristic. He heard them as if they were in the room next to him rather than above. However, it wasn't eavesdropping when you couldn't help but hear.

"Why did your brother have to bring that prick?"

"Chuck, he's nice. He's not acting like an officer at all."

"You like him." There was a silence that hung in the air. "You like the bastard?"

"I didn't say that, honey." Her voice sounded thin and a little frightened. "I don't like him at all. He's just a stupid officer and they don't know anything."

Chuck's voice got louder. "You think I don't see what you're doing. You're not going to play me, bitch. You stay away from that prick. You understand?"

"But Sam wants us to get to know him. It's important to Sam." She squealed in pain. "Honey, please let me go. You promised not to do anything here. Please."

"Then you don't go anywhere near Calavicci. You don't say anything to him. He comes in the room, you go out. He says hello and you don't say a word."

"Someone's bound to wonder why I'm doing that. It will be easier if I pretend I like him and just don't spend time near him. Don't you think?" She squealed again.

That was all Al could put up with. His instincts about Chuck were right on the money. The guy was abusive. There were no second thoughts. Al found himself on the stairs going up to the Zdenek's room. The door was closed so he knocked. "Katie, open up, okay? I got to talk to you." His sharp ears heard them whispering to each other. "I want to see you." He knocked again.

Katie opened the door just a crack. "Admiral, we're on our way to bed."

"You okay?"

Smiling she said, "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Where's Chuck?"

Her smile couldn't get the fear out of her eyes. "Getting ready for bed."

"I want to talk to him."

"Can't it wait until morning?"

Then he finally knew where Chuck really was. The bully hid behind the door. Al turned in the Admiral, "Tell the Petty Officer standing behind the door that I will see him now. It's an order."

Chuck snapped the door open. "Why?"

"At attention, Petty Officer. I don't care if we're in uniform or not. I am an Admiral and you will abide by all Navy protocol until I give you permission not to." Chuck took a slovenly stance at attention. "I want to know what was going on up here."

Katie held her left forearm in her right hand. She knew things were only going to get worse. "Please, Admiral. We're fine."

Gently he took her left hand and pushed back her sleeve. Fresh bruises dotted her pale skin. "How did this happen?"

She hid the marks, "Oh, I don't even remember. I get bruises all the time."

He looked at Chuck. "You know anything about this?"

With true derision he answered, "No, sir, Admiral. I do not."

"You know, Katie, I bet your mom would love to have pillow talks with her little girl. Why don't you spend the night in the house? Chuck and I can stay out here. Two Navy guys, roughing it just like boot camp, right Petty Officer?"

The scowl in his voice hadn't changed. "I didn't think officers went to boot camp like real Navy men did, sir."

Katie had to stop the conversation or something bad would happen. She talked to Al. He would be the one to act sanely, not Chuck. "Admiral, we're fine. Sometimes we bicker a little, but we don't let it get to us."

"My room is right below yours. You need me just call. I can hear everything from down there." He stared at Chuck, his best commanding officer look plastered on his face, "This conversation is over, sailor. You need to recognize that with a salute."

Chuck stared right back. Reluctantly, his hand went to his temple and he said, "Goodnight, sir."

Al didn't want to leave Katie with Chuck, but at least the monster knew someone was in earshot of anything he might do. With true Navy professionalism, Al recognized Chuck's salute and left the couple hoping that he hadn't made things worse for Katie. The next day, he was going to have a long talk with Sam. Someone from inside the family had to intervene or Katie was going to be badly hurt.

Fifteen minutes later, he was in bed reading his book, but he couldn't concentrate. He kept trying to hear what was happening on the floor above, not sure if hearing nothing was a good thing or bad. After another hour of silence, he put his book away, turned off the light and fell sleep hoping he wouldn't end up waking the bastard upstairs with his own screams of terror.

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_AUTHOR'S NOTE: All rights to this story are reserved. Neither the whole nor parts (with exception of short excerpts for review purposes) may be published elsewhere without written permission from the author. Thank you._


	5. Day Three At Camp

Road Trip - A Look before the Leap

The author thanks Bellasarius Productions, Universal Studios and any other creative entities responsible for Quantum Leap.

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**Day Three - At Camp**

Through the night, Al woke early and often. At least three times he woke up from some nightmare or another. Around six, he gave it all up and rose. His morning shower was a little colder than he liked, but it sure made him ready to face the day. He had a pair of jeans and a Navy sweatshirt in his gear. He threw on a yellow shirt, pulled the sweatshirt over it and took a look outside.

The morning was pure magic. The weather was a little warmer than usual and he was dressed fine for walking outside. The sun through the barren trees had an intriguing labyrinth-like quality. In the light he could see more of Camp Amazing Grace. A pier stretched out fingering into the lake. Down near the end he saw Katie sitting on a pylon. He quietly approached her, "Good morning."

She spun around. "Oh! You startled me."

"Sorry." Pointing to his feet he said, "Tennis shoes don't make noise." He took a seat on the pylon across from the young woman. "Listen, about last night."

She interrupted him immediately and curtly. "Nothing happened."

"Maybe not, but it has in the past. He beats you."

"Chuck is a great guy."

If he heard one more time how Chuck was a great guy, he was going to vomit. "Great guys don't beat their wives."

Her pained expression was suddenly replaced with an angry, but untrue glare. "Stay away from me and stay away from Chuck. He said all you officers are alike and he's right!" She stormed off back toward the house.

Al followed her with his eyes and as he turned he saw Chuck standing on the front porch of the house. He muttered, "I got to find Sam. He's got to help her."

Distance was what Katie needed right now, so Al opted not to go into the house yet. The water was beautiful. The sun skipping off it shimmered and he thought he would soak up the calm before harried family time began.

Staring off into thoughts of happy moments spent in space travel, he didn't hear Chuck coming up behind him at first. When he did, he figured it was Sam. He turned with a smile and found the big man defiantly looking down at him. "What is it?"

"Thelma wants you inside. She's making breakfast."

"Great." He got up and brushed past Chuck realizing that the Petty Officer was a full head taller and about 90 pounds heavier. If an Admiral's rank wasn't going to impress him, his five foot six, 142 pound frame sure as hell wasn't going to do it either. The battle with Chuck had to be won through intimidation, the same kind Chuck used on Katie.

He found Sam tying his shoes in the living room. "Hey, Al. Sleep good?"

"Just fine."

Sam wanted to believe him. "Really?"

The genuine concern on Sam's face made him smile. As much as Sam could frustrate him, he never had anyone in his life who so freely accepted all the foibles Al owned. Sam really cared. "Yeah, Sam. I did. In fact, a lot better than I thought I would." Sam jumped to his feet eager to have his mom's breakfast and to get on with the day. His enthusiasm made Al smile. "Listen, I need to get some time with you alone. We have to talk."

Sam's heart skipped a beat. "You want to talk? You mean really talk?"

He waved that idea away with both hands. "No, something else. It's important, but we have to talk privately."

"I thought that after breakfast we could take a walk around the grounds. It's a beautiful place."

"Deal. One walk around the camp."

From the kitchen they heard Deb calling, "Time for breakfast boys." A herd of lumbering elephants dashed to the table like Pavlov's dogs waiting for a treat. "Good grief. I'm surprised the house is still standing!" With a laugh and a flourish she placed a huge stack of pecan pancakes on the table and said, "Guests first. Admiral, you start and then pass them down."

"These smell fabulous."

"An old family recipe, but there's more food coming, so don't fill up on the pancakes."

Al smiled and handed the plate to Sam. "I like when Deb says there's more food coming."

Dave patted his growing paunch. "I like it too, maybe a little too much."

The pancakes went around the table followed by warm maple syrup. Thelma sat down while Deb and Katie finished bringing out scrambled eggs, sausages, bacon, baked tomatoes, more biscuits and a plate of bagels with a lump of cream cheese on the side.

"Bagels?" Al picked one from the plate. "Boy, these are still warm. You got a bagel joint in the woods somewhere?"

Thelma started in. "I found the recipe in the library. Now, I don't know if they're any good. I never made them before and I sure never boiled bread before."

Al took a bite and was transported back to Avram's Kosher Bakery on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. "I haven't had bagels like this since I was a kid. You sure you're not a Kosher Methodist or something?"

It was sweet to see the older woman blush. "Now, you don't have to eat them just to please me."

"Trust me. I'm only pleasing myself here. I'm not sure how kosher it is to eat bagels with bacon, but I don't care. Pass me some of that bacon, Tom."

Breakfast continued on with everyone still talking at once. Half an hour later it was time to clean it all up. Al started clearing the table, but Deb took the plates from his hands. "Nope. You're a guest. You don't have to even think about cleaning up. That's why I have two sons." Jason and Tom got the not-so-subtle hint and reluctantly began putting dishes in the kitchen. "And they do dishes so nicely, don't you boys?"

Sam wanted to go for their walk. "Listen, I'm going to take Al around the camp. Anything I need to know about?"

Dave told Sam about some new trails that were well marked and that one trail he used to hike was off limits now. The bridge over the creek was in need of repair and too dangerous to play around, but that didn't matter. There was still a lot of ground to cover and the woods around Amazing Grace were beautiful.

They started out going north and for nearly an hour they talked about nonsense, fun things like baseball and basketball. Dave wanted to get a game of three on three going in the lodge that afternoon. They talked over the merits of the Beatles versus the Stones. It was a good time. From Al's perspective, this is what Gooshie meant. They needed to know they could communicate on any level at all. Usually their long conversations centered on science. They both loved it so much, but this was frivolous and it felt good.

The deep woods opened into a small grove where half a dozen park benches waited for them. Al walked over to one where the sun would warm their backs and sat on the table. Sam sat next to him. "It's great out here, Al. Sometimes I wish I would have been satisfied with this life."

"So, you know that you wouldn't be, right?"

It sounded like a silly question. "Oh yeah. I thought about it a lot when I was in grad school. People seemed to expect so much from me and I wasn't sure I wanted to please them. No one was asking what I wanted."

"That happens a lot. The orphanage threw me out when I was 16 without asking me what I wanted."

Sam was remembering a time when everyone was pulling everyway and he was terribly unhappy. "That stinks, doesn't it? I wasn't sure what I wanted. Part of me still wishes I had gone into music. It would be great to have more time to play the piano."

"Yeah, I like when you play."

"What about you? If you weren't in the Navy, what would you be doing?"

"Turning into mulch."

"I'm serious."

"Me too." He looked at Sam and the kid wasn't buying it. "Look, Sam, if I hadn't gotten into Annapolis, I would have ended up stealing from someone who would have knifed me and I'd have bled to death in an alley. Three days later, the garbage guys would find me and after a month or so laying on a slab in the morgue with no one claiming me, they'd dump me in potter's field. End of story."

"I don't believe it. Not you. You had too much going for you."

"This is a dumb game, kid. What might have happened doesn't matter. There's enough real stuff to think about."

Sam thought he'd ask again. "I was hoping we could talk about Vietnam."

Al sprung off the table and kept his back to Sam. "Why do you need to know about Vietnam?"

"It's not a need to know thing, Al. It's your need to tell."

"I don't have any need to tell you about Vietnam, but we have to talk about something serious and it's not easy." He sat across from Sam on another bench. "Last night after you left I heard some stuff from Chuck's and Katie's room." Smiling at Sam he admitted, "She's a good kid, Sam. Real charmer."

"Yeah. I'm glad she's happy. She had a tough time after Tom died. I didn't think she'd ever get over it, but who would figure she'd marry a sailor."

"Not every guy in a Navy uniform is a gem, Sam. Some are real pigs."

"Yeah, but Chuck's great."

"Shit, why does everyone keep saying that? You know, the only one of you who hasn't said it is Katie and she's the only one who has the right to."

"What's with you?"

"Last night, Sam, I was brushing my teeth and I heard them fighting. It got loud."

"So? I've seen you through two wives. You've been a little loud on occasion. It was nothing. They argued." Sam stared into the dirt. "It happens."

That was a different reaction than Al anticipated. "Don't you want to know why it got loud and what happened after?"

The cold hard table all of a sudden felt really uncomfortable. "Not really. It's their life."

Nothing more to do except it short and sweet. "Chuck is abusive, Sam. I went up after I heard her ask him to let her go."

Sam's blood turned cold and Al saw the scientist's posture change. "You're wrong, Al. Chuck is a great guy."

"Stop with that shit. The bastard beats your kid sister." He stormed over to Sam. "You're her big brother. What are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing is going on between Chuck and Katie. She knows better. If he was abusing her, she'd leave him."

"That's not how it works for a lot of women, Sam. They cover for the scum. I don't know why, but they do. Katie is covering for Chuck probably because she doesn't think people will believe her 'cause 'Chuck is a great guy' and she doesn't want to come off as being stupid."

Sam didn't get angry often, but Al was telling him that Katie was an abused wife and he was too stupid to see it and she was too stupid to walk away from it. He was the smartest man in the world and if anyone should discover that his sister was in trouble it should be him. "Katie is not stupid."

"I didn't say she was. Sam, here she is, the kid sister to the smartest man in the world and she can't find a husband who treats her right. She's afraid to show you she's in trouble, but you're her big brother. Protect her."

He'd heard enough. Sam didn't like his abilities questioned especially when it came to something as important as his family. The smartest man in the world knew everything and what he didn't know wasn't worth knowing. And Al Calavicci, a man who'd been through five wives, was telling him about his sister's relationship. Hell, he'd met her less than 24 hours earlier. There was no way Al would know something that Sam didn't. "Katie is fine and I don't like you talking about Chuck like this."

Al walked up and shoved his face right into Sam's. "Listen to me, doctor. Your kid sister is getting beaten. You're her big brother. Protect her."

Sam stared down at Al and found something to say. "Like you protected Trudy?" The gray look on Al's face broadcast that the line was stepped over big time.

The Admiral backed off and sat on another bench. This time he didn't want to look at Sam. He understood full well that he failed Trudy, but his kid sister was dead. Katie was still here and needing help. Sam pegged it though. Al was trying to do for Katie what he couldn't do for Trudy. God damn, why wasn't he able to help Trudy?

There's a certain kind of silence in a winter wood. No birds sound out. Squirrels aren't running through leaves on the ground. The breeze has nothing to rustle in the trees. So two men sitting on picnic benches have nothing to hear except their own breathing. It doesn't take long for the silence to need breaking.

Al gazed out toward a creek winding down about 20 yards away. Sam had to believe him and if it took telling some really private thoughts to help Katie, then it was time. "There was this one guard at a camp I was at in '72. Five years is a long time to be a prisoner, especially when you got a guy like the Marquis hanging around. All the guards had nicknames, Sam. We called him Marquis because he was the Marquis de Sade. He didn't just have fun beating us. His fun was in picking the most agonizing ways to do it. So, when he picked me that day, I knew I was in trouble. He locked my ankles in this iron bar. I guess my feet were about a yard apart. Then he strung me up by my wrists," he unconsciously started stretching his arms out to his side, "with my feet off the ground. He left me there I think it was three days. The sun burned me so bad I could feel the blisters growing." His breath shuddered and his eyes closed tight. It all happened in 1972, but he felt it now. "That's when he started whipping me." And he felt the stripe coming down. It was 1986 and it wasn't happening, but he knew where each lash fell and how it tore open his skin. "Weird thing about getting whipped, Sam. A lot of it, the pain part is from being hit over and over. The cutting was a separate thing." He snickered. "Sometimes the cuts felt good in a way. When your blood evaporated, you cooled off a little." There was more to say, but it wasn't going to be said. He had a point to make and to do it he had to look at the young scientist, his best friend. He walked over to Sam, his face filled with shame and self-hate. "It's taken me fourteen years to tell anyone about that day and I can't tell you the rest. The whole thing makes me embarrassed, more like humiliated. I know you're going to tell me there's nothing to be humiliated about and maybe that's true, but it doesn't matter. Now, Katie is like me. The pain is more than she wants to admit to anyone especially someone who thinks she can take care of herself." He stopped talking, stopped breathing, stopped looking at anything. Finally he shook his head and took a few steps away. "I am telling you the truth about Katie. For God's sake, protect her."

Sam had prepared himself for the kinds of things Al might someday describe, but knowing the facts and seeing the effects were vastly different. There was nothing that looked like a tear in the Admiral's eye and that was almost more frightening. "Al, I'm sorry he did that to you. It had to be hell, but I'm glad you're starting to open up."

The Admiral turned to face Sam again. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Yeah, and this is a real breakthrough for you."

"You are one stupid son of a bitch." He started walking away. "I'm going for a walk - alone! I'll find my way back."

"You can't go off alone. You know better!"

He turned and yelled at Sam. "So do you! Leave me alone. Go play ball with Chuck. I hear he's a great guy." He took off at a jog, trying to distance himself from his anger even more than from Sam.

"Al! Wait!" He had to chase the Admiral down. His long legs let him catch up pretty quickly. "Listen to me, Al. I'll talk to her. I'll ask what's going on, but it has to be her decision. She's a grown woman."

"She's your baby sister and there are times when the cavemen had the right idea. When a woman is in trouble, you take care of it for her. Now I know I failed Trudy, but you can't fail Katie."

Reminded of the cruelty of his statement, Sam turned crimson. "That was an ugly and untrue thing to say. I wasn't thinking."

"Listen, maybe it's better we both shut up for now. I want to drive into Ft. Wayne and visit a friend."

"What friend?"

He flashed a wicked, though unconvincing smile. "Hey, I got one in every port."

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By eleven o'clock Al was in his dress blues and driving into Ft. Wayne. He checked out the cassette collection again and opted for silence. Sometimes the best music was empty sound where you could think about the important things in life without outside influences. He fibbed to Sam. There was no girl waiting for him in Ft. Wayne. His mission was different today, which was why he put on the uniform.

Half an hour later he pulled into the small parking lot of the local Navy recruiting office. With five inches of ribbons on his chest and Admiral stripes on his sleeve, he'd get access to telephones and would have the privacy he needed for the phone call he planned to make.

He put on his hat and made his entrance. The two young men relaxing at their desks looked up and were absolutely startled to see an Admiral in front of them. The blonde Ensign got up so fast that he banged his knee against the desk with a crack that sounded painful. Both saluted and briskly said, "Good morning, Sir."

Al returned the salute and immediately advised, "At ease, Ensigns. . ." he checked the names on their shirts, " Figueroa and Benson." He smiled at Benson. "Ensign Benson. I would guess you get a little flak about that."

Ensign Benson smiled, "Yes, sir. Quite a lot."

"I promise I won't add to it." The boys were so very young and it constantly amazed him to think he was ever that age. "I'm Admiral Albert Calavicci. I want to take care of some business while in town. I need access to a telephone in a private space. I'm hoping this is the place."

Ensign Figueroa said, "Yes, sir. We have a private office in the back. There's a phone there you can use, but sir, if you don't mind."

Al anticipated the next question and pulled out his wallet. "You want to see an ID. Good call, Ensign." He showed both men his official Navy ID. "Now, the only other thing I need is a good cup of coffee."

Benson smiled as he checked Al's ID. "We may have a problem there, sir. There is no good coffee in this office. We have some stuff that smells like coffee, but we don't know if it really is or not. I can get you a cup of that."

"Sure, I'll try almost anything once." He pointed toward the back of the room. "So, who's going to show me the office?"

Ensign Figueroa led Al to the space he wanted while Benson brought him the coffee. Figueroa said, "Sir, I'll notify our CO that you're here. He's only five minutes away."

"That's fine. If he's available, it would be good to meet him." Benson brought the coffee and the two recruitment officers left Al to conduct his business. He shut the door, sat at the desk and pulled an address book from his pocket.

Flipping to "C" he found the number and dialed. After two rings he heard, "Chegwidden."

"Hey, A.J., Al Calavicci here."

"Hey, Al. What's up? Last time I saw you, you were on top of a piano singing badly."

"Yeah, that was fun. I'm out here in Indiana visiting Sam Beckett's family."

"You must be a foreign national out there."

He laughed. "I'm not sure how to take that. Listen I got a favor to ask you. I need you to check on a Petty Officer for me. I want to know his record."

"You got to give me a reason, Al."

Still joking with his buddy Al snapped, "Okay. I'm an Admiral and you're not."

A.J. roared. "I guess that will do it. Who is he?"

"Chuck Zdenek, probably Charles. He's stationed at Great Lakes. He's married to Katherine Beckett. That's Katherine with a K."

"How soon do you want this? Knowing you, you want it right now."

"Good boy, Captain. You got it. Let me give you the telephone number here. I'm at the recruiting station in Ft. Wayne."

A.J. took down the number and began working on Al's request. Outside the office Al heard the CO arriving. A.J. would need a little time so he might as well shoot the breeze with some fellow Navy officers.

Half an hour later, the phone rang and Figueroa answered. It was Chegwidden and Al once again disappeared into the office for a private conversation. "What do you got?"

"The guy's a prince. He's on the edge of dishonorable discharge. Seems he likes to start fights."

"Great. This SOB is married to Sam's kid sister and I think he beats her."

"Well, it would go along with his pattern. He's not choosey about who he hits. He broke a woman's jaw in a bar fight in Chicago. His buddies backed him on it being an accident, but I don't believe it. The whole episode has a hinky feel to it."

"Thanks, A.J."

"Al, you're not going to take him on, are you? The guy is Paul Bunyan with an attitude. He's taller than I am and outweighs me by forty pounds."

"That all? Damn. He looks even bigger. Trust me, A.J., I'll do my best to stay out of his way, but this might be the guy's last week in the Navy. Start proceedings on him. I'll keep you updated."

Theirs was a 20-year friendship and the attorney knew his friend well. "Al, if you do something stupid, he can kill you. From what I'm seeing here, it's a miracle he hasn't killed someone already. I don't know why he's still in the Navy."

"For Katie's sake, I'm glad he is. We might be able to take care of him."

A.J. wasn't letting him off the hook. "Promise me you won't antagonize this guy. You only got in the Navy because you fit in the cockpit of an A-4."

"Smart ass. Listen, I got to go. I'll let you know what's happening here. Contact Great Lakes and get info from his CO. It's a direct order from me."

"Thanks for the order. Gives me the clout I'll need to talk to his CO."

"Tell them anything want. I'll back you up. I'll call you tomorrow." He hung up the phone and made his way back out to the officers at the recruiting station. They had a customer. Benson wanted the potential recruit to meet a real Navy hero. Al parlayed the introduction into a commercial for the Navy and the kid looked like he would sign anything to become a sailor, but Al told him, "Enthusiasm is important, but so is this decision. The Navy has a lot to offer you, but be sure first. Go home and think about it. Find a good friend that you trust and talk through it. I hope you'll be signing up, but only if it's the right thing for you."

The wide-eyed young man hadn't counted on meeting an astronaut and his smile was contagious. He shook the Admiral's hand and Al left the building to make his way back to the cage. Damned stupid nickname for a camp, but what was, was.

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Sam walked around the camp trying to figure out how he was going to approach Katie. He wanted to find her alone and it was hard to do. She stayed glued to Chuck to the point where Sam began to see what Al saw instinctively. It took a few hours, but at last, Chuck was throwing a football with Jason, and Katie was with Thelma in the kitchen.

His hands were stuck in his pockets and he felt terribly uncomfortable, but he walked in and smiled. "The two prettiest women in the world."

Katie kidded him. "About time you realized that."

He put his arms around her in a big bear hug. "Always did realize it." Without letting go he said, "Katie, can I talk to you?"

"Sure, Sam."

"Let's go outside." He took her hand and led her out onto the front porch. They sat on the swing. "This is hard, Katie."

Her heart sunk. She hoped Al hadn't spoken to Sam, but apparently he did. She decided to play dumb. "What's hard?"

"Al and I talked this morning. He seems to think there's a problem with Chuck."

Katie went on the defensive. "I don't like Al. I know he's your friend, but last night he stormed up to our room demanding that Chuck treat him like an Admiral and being really mean."

Sam had witnessed Al in military mode often enough. Considering his small stature, he could intimidate pretty well, but storming up and demanding to be treated like an Admiral just wasn't his style. Sam realized it was true. All of what Al told him was true. "Katie, Al told me Chuck hurt you last night. We have to get you away from him."

"He didn't hurt me. He just grabbed my arm. I wasn't listening to him and sometimes he gets angry with me. He should. I don't listen well enough."

"No one has the right to hurt you for any reason."

Getting hurt wasn't fun, but she was Chuck's wife and sometimes a woman had to put up with things. So many of the wives she knew on the base were in similar circumstances and they all maintained they had good marriages. "Sam, I love him and he loves me. We argue. Even Mom and Dad argued."

"Dad never laid a hand on Mom and you know it. Why do you let him hurt you?"

"It just happens sometimes, but it's nothing. Just a bruise every so often. Last night he was so mad at Al. He came here to get away from officers. He hates officers." She wanted Sam to let it go, but part of her didn't. Something was terribly wrong in a relationship that depended on pain to keep it together. Still, she was Chuck's wife and she would stand by him.

"Well, I know what he does to you. Al knows and I think you need to tell Mom. Dave and Deb can help us now. We have to get you away from Chuck."

"You float into my life once a year for a decade and now you're telling me how to live. Think again, genius. You don't know everything and I'm not leaving Chuck. He's my husband and I love him. That's all you need to know." Pushing off the swing, she marched back toward the front door. Turning back she warned, "Don't you dare tell Mom. I'll tell her you and the Admiral are lying." She walked into the foyer and found Chuck waiting for her. She kissed him. "Honey, I'm so glad you're here." Chuck took her hand and they went back outside. "Chuck, let it go."

Sam was right outside the front door. Chuck pushed it open throwing Sam off balance. He caught himself before he fell. Chuck pretended to be surprised. "Sorry, doc. I didn't see you."

"Yeah, well, my mistake apparently." He looked into Chuck's eyes and now any doubts that remained were gone. Sam could see the rage in Chuck and wondered how he ever missed it in the past. Katie needed to be safe. "Where are you going?"

"Your mother wants me and Katie to go into Albion for some groceries. Your friend is a pretty demanding guy. Thelma seems to think she has to cook just for him." He gently pushed Katie in front of him making a blockade between him and an angry Sam. "Let's go."

They got in the car and Sam sadly watched them until the car drove around the last turn. His little sister was a battered wife. He wanted to tell the others, but thought he needed Al first. Checking the time, he hoped his friend would return soon.

An hour passed and Al still hadn't shown up. It would have been better for Al to return before Chuck and Katie, but that wasn't the case. Sam heard the front door and Chuck carried in two bags of groceries. He walked past Sam without saying a word. Sam caught Katie by the arm before she followed him. "Stay with me."

"Sam, stop it. I swear we'll leave right now if you don't."

Chuck came to them. "Anything wrong?"

"No, Honey. Sam is just being goofy like usual." She hugged her brother. "I love you, too, Sam."

If Katie wouldn't stay with Sam, then he'd keep Chuck with him. "Hey, Dave wanted some firewood chopped. You interested in helping?"

Jason chose that moment to wander through. "Sure could use your help, Chuck." He kept walking. "Yours, too, Sam."

With Jason in the lead, Chuck and Sam walked out the back door to take care of some firewood. Sam was glad Katie had a reprieve. At least she'd be safe for a little while longer. He still wanted Al to get back. It was almost 3:30 and Sam wanted resolution before dinner.

For nearly half an hour, the three men chopped wood. Sam liked the physicality of it. His world was computers and keyboards. This honest, hard work that depended very little on his brain was good release for him. Chuck was a regular guy when he was working hard with his hands. No wonder Sam didn't catch the evil side of him. This is the Chuck he'd seen most often, but he had to keep from thinking things were really fine. He knew better now.

From the kitchen window he heard his mother. "Sam, come here. I need your help." He walked in to help Thelma open a few jars that were just too stuck for her.

Sam asked, "Where's Katie?"

"On her way to the lodge. She has a headache and wants to lie down." Thelma looked into Sam's eyes. "She seems different somehow, Sam. I can't figure it out."

"She has her reasons. I'd rather she'd tell you herself."

"So you know and I have to wait."

"Won't be too long, I'm sure."

Katie left her mother two minutes earlier and as she walked to the lodge, Al returned and found her alone. She didn't want to talk to him, but he was intent.

He lit a cigar and told her, "I know about Chuck's temper. He broke a woman's jaw."

"Admiral, please drop it. I'm fine. I love him and we're fine."

While Sam was with Thelma, Chuck wended his way to the front porch looking for Katie. He didn't like what he saw. She was talking to Al and it wasn't going to be a good night for Katie. He walked toward them.

Katie saw him first. "Oh, God, just go, Admiral. Please go."

Al's cigar sent up small streams of smoke that blew away with the constant breeze as he watched Chuck coming toward them. Something about Chuck's posture made his blood run cold. The guy was a powder keg and if Sam wasn't going to do anything about it, then he would. The cigar was dropped to the ground and crushed out. He was glad that he'd been to the gym a few days earlier. His fighter instincts were tight and he was ready, even if Chuck was bigger than Sam. Oh, well, sometimes a little guy had an advantage.

Katie's eyes flashed between Chuck and Al. Her husband gave her strict unspoken orders. She knew he didn't want her anywhere near the Admiral. She was confused, but she also began to realize that she didn't want to be hurt any more.

Chuck and the Admiral were only about 20 feet apart, but it was the difference between a life of hope and the desperation of a secret hell. The Admiral took her in his arms and hugged her. She whispered to him, "He's going to be so mad." Tears were already streaming down her face.

Al gave her one more squeeze. "I know, honey, but it's all over. You go up to the house right now and get your brother. I'll take care of Chuck."

His arms felt like her Dad was there protecting her. She didn't want to leave his safety. "Come with me, Admiral, please."

Gently, he pushed her away from him. His eyes stayed focused on Chuck. "I'll be there in a minute. Go now. Get Sam." Katie took off running and Al walked deliberately toward Chuck, his hands flexing and praying the younger man wouldn't beat the shit out of him. But if anger is a motivator, then the Admiral was motivated. Zdenek stood waiting for him and that was fine.

When he got closer, Al said, "Petty Officer, we have to talk."

"You're no Admiral out here."

Al ignored the statement. There were more important things going on. "You're done beating that girl. You're done. Understand?"

"Fuck you." He turned his back walking farther down the pier.

Al didn't move. The more distance between them the better. "I started dishonorable discharge proceedings against you today. You're also done with the Navy."

The walk stopped. He'd have nothing left. "You're not going to do that, Calavicci."

"That's Admiral Calavicci to you, understand, sailor?"

Chuck slowly approached the Admiral. "No, I don't think so. Why don't you tell me again?"

"So you want criminal charges too. Be easy enough to take care of. I don't give a shit how long you sit in a prison."

"She's my wife! She does what I tell her."

Anger made the Admiral move in closer. "Not any more. She's done taking your crap." The closer he got, the more Chuck seethed. "You and me, we're going to pack up your belongings and then you're leaving. Katie won't be seeing you again."

"You can't do that."

"Want to bet?" Chuck made his move, but anger made him clumsy. Al ducked when the huge fist came toward him. The move made it easy for him to drive a blow into Chuck's gut and he went flying. "Now, I get to call the MPs. Assaulting a superior officer isn't a good idea, sailor."

"Fuck you." Chuck used his body mass to plow into the smaller man. Al fell hard against the pier, the back of his head cracking down on a pylon. He was dazed and unable to see the Petty Officer follow through on the next attack. Chuck grabbed Al's collar and lifted him off the pier. By the time the Admiral could regain his bearings, Chuck landed three hard fists in his belly. Al's knee cut upward and got Chuck where he kept his brain. Both men moved away slightly to regain composure. The back of Al's head was bleeding and a pounding started already. He dropped to his knees woozy and knowing he'd lost the fight already, but Chuck wasn't done. The big man barreled into the Admiral and his only objective was to kill.

Katie ran toward the house as fast as she could. She heard the fight and stopped to take a look. She saw Al going down, his small frame limp and lifeless. "Oh God, no!" She ran inside and found Thelma in the kitchen. "Where's Sam?"

"Out back." Thelma saw panic on her daughter's face. "What's wrong, Katie?"

"I got to get Sam!" She ran through the house and screamed for her brother. He saw her terror and followed her to the front of the house. She pointed and Sam watched Chuck stomp a heavy heeled boot into the Admiral's chest. Al was motionless as Chuck ripped the ribbons from his breast pocket. The array was thrown into the water. They disappeared into the dark lake. Then Chuck threw an unconscious Admiral in after them.

"Katie, call the State Police now!" Sam took off like a bat out of hell and called on every one of his martial arts belts to keep Chuck from killing him. A final kick to Chuck's head put him down on the pier unconscious, but Al was still in the freezing water. The surface was no longer rippling and Sam's fear almost kept him from moving, but a greater fear gave him the strength to jump into the icy water to find the Admiral.

He dove into the lake where he thought Al went in. The icy cold hit him and opening his eyes was hard. The water was murky and he didn't see anything big enough to be a man. Surfacing for a breath he saw Katie pointing farther out. Five yards away, Al floated face down in the water. A few kicks, a stretch and Sam had the back of Al's jacket in his hand. The chilly water permeated Al's wool clothing adding at least thirty pounds of unneeded weight and the distance to the pier seemed longer than it was, but Sam called on all the power in his body and soul. Finally, Jason and Katie lifted the lifeless Admiral to the pier.

Tom had a baseball bat ready to swing at Chuck while his father tied the man's hands behind his back. Mike took the bat from Tom and told his son, "Go to the highway and signal the police." Tom took off.

His ear to Al's chest, Sam didn't hear any breathing, but his heart was strong. "Damn you, breathe!" When Al didn't follow orders, Sam pulled open the wet tie trying to strangle the Admiral and started mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. It took nearly a minute to get Al's lungs moving without help. The Admiral coughed and dirty water spilled out. He panted as his eyes opened. Sam's firm hands gently turned Al on his side. "Don't move."

A few more hacking coughs got all the water out and he pushed Sam away. His voice was raspy. "I'm okay." Sitting up he held his stomach trying to control the pain in his aching gut. "The bastard has a good right cross." His breathing started evening out. "Where's Katie?"

She knelt beside him. "I'm right here." Tears were pouring from her eyes. "Thank you."

"Don't cry, kid. You're okay now." Involuntarily, his eyes closed again. Katie caught him falling forward.

Sam was testing limbs to see if anything was broken. "But I'm not sure you're okay. Be still."

"I'm fine, Sam. Shit." He looked up and saw Thelma. "Excuse me. Sorry."

Sam's mom leaned down, gently took Al's face in her hands and kissed his forehead. "Thank you so much." She ran her hand over Al's wet hair, pushing it off his face. When she touched the back of his head and he gasped. Thelma opened her hand and said, "Sam, look."

The doctor saw blood. "Okay, Al. We're taking you to the hospital."

"I don't think so."

Deb reached the group carrying a litter from the infirmary. Katie and Jason helped her open it and it was set next to the patient. Sam looked his friend straight in the eye. "You might have a skull fracture. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, I understand you fine, but my head isn't broken. I may have a little concussion, but no fracture." His wet skin began shivering in the 40-degree air. "Can we go inside?"

Sam motioned Jason to help and Al was placed on the litter. Deb wrapped a blanket around him and they left Mike holding his baseball bat on an unconscious Chuck. Adjacent to the main house, the camp infirmary was well outfitted. Since they were so far from a medical center, Deb insisted that they have the equipment to care for any number of emergencies especially water injuries.

Sam and Deb wrapped Al in blankets. Once his body warmed up, he began to feel the bruising and the tangerine-sized lump on the back of his head. Al knew full well that except for a headache and some magnificent black and blue marks he was going to be fine, but part of him liked the fuss. It was almost like having someone who really cared.

The stethoscope practically attached to his chest. Sam listened and listened and listened making sure he didn't hear anything rattling inside that shouldn't be rattling. Deb prepared films for x-ray and as Al predicted there was no fracture. The cut took 14 stitches, oxygen was pumped through a nasal canula and an IV dripped antibiotics into him. The Admiral lay quietly knowing the rest would do him good. It was good to finally feel warm again.

After the police left with Chuck handcuffed in the back seat, Thelma brought Sam a change of clothing and about an hour later, things got to a point where everyone thought they could begin to relax. The infirmary had a lot of visitors and Al was feeling a little like he was dead and mourners were viewing the corpse. "You know, everybody, I'm fine. You'll see. I'll be on my feet in a few minutes."

Sam finally let fear take over and he sounded weak and wounded himself. "Not if I can help it."

"I've been beaten worse than this a lot of times."

Looking at his family, he asked, "Could you leave us alone for a few minutes." Everyone filed out through the door leading into the house leaving the scientist and his friend to talk "Al, I'm sorry." Tears began to form in his eyes. "I didn't believe you."

Al looked at Sam. "Listen, you don't have to believe me, but you should have believed what you saw. Katie could have gone back to Great Lakes with that nozzle and he would have ended up killing her. So if you want to apologize, apologize to her."

"What's wrong with me? She's my sister and I love her. Why didn't I see what Chuck was?"

Al had a feeling he knew the problem, but he wasn't sure how Sam would react. "Kid, Gooshie said that if we get funded, then you and I have to be friends, real friends. Well, real friends say things sometimes that aren't fun. You willing to let me keep talking?" Sam nodded, but actually wasn't convinced he really was. "Okay. We know it can't be lack of intelligence. I also know that it isn't because you don't care, but there are times, kid, when I swear you don't see. It's more like you don't want to see. There is this magnificent world in your head and it's Utopia. In your world, people are like you. They're kind. They hold doors open for old ladies. They love hearing kids laugh, but that's not the real world. You don't want to think men like Chuck exist, so in your head you don't let them. You block them out to the point where you don't even see what's in front of your eyes."

Sighing Sam wasn't convinced. "You're telling me I'm just a naïve Indiana hayseed."

"You say that like it's a bad thing. Sometimes I wish I knew what it meant to be naïve. I never had the chance, but you did." Sam was looking like a small child who broke Mr. Finster's window and ran away before fessing up. "Sam, there is this guy named Untermeyer. He was a poet. Wrote this poem once called **Prayer**. Now I'm not a good one for praying, but I always liked this poem. There are two verses that you need to learn and keep in your head. Listen close and memorize them." Al had to take a second to bring the verses back into his aching head, but he finally began, "Open my eyes to visions girt With beauty, and with wonder lit - But always let me see the dirt, And all that spawn and die in it. Open my ears to music; let Me thrill with Spring's first flutes and drums - But never let me dare forget The bitter ballads of the slums." Al closed his own eyes. He kept those words for himself, but as a reminder that there could be beauty in the world. Sam needed them now for the opposite reason. "So, it's good and right to see wonderful things in the world, to expect them, but you can't close your eyes to the bad stuff."

With more candor than he usually shared, Sam admitted, "I'm ashamed."

"I can imagine, but take a look at the results here. Chuck is in jail and Katie is safe."

"Thanks to you." He looked into the face of this man who was now far more a friend than he imagined every having. "You forgot to add that you're safe too."

He sure wasn't feeling well, but he would recover. "I'll admit the SOB nearly got me, but . . ."

Sam interrupted him, "No, I mean you're safe. No one will ever do things to you again."

"Do things?"

It was a confession he didn't mean to make, but the words spilled out. "When we took off your wet clothes, I saw the scars."

Al suddenly knew what Sam was talking about the remnants of over six years of imprisonment. "Don't go there, Sam." It was bad enough that not too long ago he was drowning in some stupid lake. He didn't want to rehash the past. It wasn't time.

"Remember what Gooshie said. If we're going to be friends, I have to tell you the truth. I heard what you said this morning about the Marquis and what he did to you, but it didn't become real to me until I saw the scars on your back, I had no idea you were beaten like that."

"You saw nothing. Let it be."

"You tell me to see the dark side of life, but when I do, you turn me away. I can't learn if you won't teach."

Sarcasm came first. "I'm not much of a teacher." Al's eyes turned away and his openness disappeared. "Like I said, don't go there, Sam." Then his face turned away. "I'm asking you."

The conversation was over. Sam knew it, but he didn't know what else to say. "I think it might be a good idea for you to get some sleep. I'll lower the lights and pull the shade." Sam checked the flow of oxygen and the IV and then followed through with the lights and shades. "I'll be in the next room." He checked the time. "It's 4:45, Al. I'll wake you for dinner." There was no response.

Al was grateful for the dark. This road trip was getting overwhelming and he wasn't sure he wanted it to go on any further. Once he determined he was alone, he gingerly touched his chest and grimaced. He may have been beat up worse in the past, but this one was pretty good. Every muscle ached. Every breath hurt. The chance to get some sleep was welcomed. Heavy eyes closed under the influence of pain medication and exhaustion. In five minutes, he was asleep.

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He didn't want to wake up, but Sam was telling him it had to happen "Okay, okay. I'm up."

"Glad to see it. I'll be waking you every two hours or so."

Waking a patient every two hours was the procedure for a concussion and the Admiral had been hit on the head enough to have been through it all too many times. "My head is fine. It's a bump. That's all. Don't worry so much."

"No pain?"

"I didn't say that." As he sat up he felt light-headed, but he figured he earned that right. His head pounded, but Sam didn't need to know. "Chuck did a number on me, didn't he?"

"Tomorrow we're going into Ft. Wayne. Deb and I both want you to get a more complete set of x-rays, especially your head. Between getting bonked and the near drowning, I'll feel better having a neurologist check you out."

The throbbing was starting in. "Good idea."

Sam thought Al would argue with him. It was disconcerting to have the Admiral agree so easily. "I want to take a look at the damage." He started untying the hospital gown. The exposed bruises were even angrier looking. "These things are still growing." He pressed his fingers against the baseball-sized bruise on Al's right side. The Admiral flinched and let out a short yelp. Sam apologized. He didn't want to hurt his friend, but he had to know the progression of the injuries. "I got to poke a little more."

Al steadied himself for more pain. "Get it over with."

Sam worked quickly, but gently. He discovered two marks on Al's back. They were dark red, apparently where Chuck's boots kicked with all his weight. "I didn't see these before. This might be a broken rib. Damn."

He touched the first one and Al gasped. "Jesus, Sam, be careful." When the lights in his eyes stopped flashing in pain he said, "That son of a bitch is going to pay for this." He remembered A.J. "I got to call Chegwidden. The MPs need to get involved here. Where's the phone?"

"Phone calls can wait. The Sheriff's Department has Chuck in a cell for attempted murder." His hands pushed on the second bruise he found on Al's back. The reaction was even stronger. "Listen to me. I think we need a hospital. We're going to pack you up and go as soon as we can."

"What's wrong? So, it hurts. You have King Kong step dancing on you and see how you feel."

"These are pretty significant. I want to be sure you don't have a bruised kidney." He slipped the gown back over Al's shoulders. Supporting Al's back, he guided his patient back down in the bed. "Let me see how Dave transports patients."

"You give them pants and put them in a car."

"I'd rather have an ambulance."

"You're nuts. Get me some clothes. I can sit in a car." A deep breath left him light-headed again. "I want all the fucking documentation you can get on what he did to me. Make it look worse than it really is, Sam, because Chuckie is going to fry."

"Attempted murder is pretty serious charge."

"I got to get A.J. trying him at JAG. Civilian court doesn't care that I'm an Admiral. JAG does. Attempted murder of an Admiral will get a few more years added to his sentence."

Deb poked her head in. "How are things going?"

Sam motioned her over. "I don't know how, but we missed two bruises over his right kidney. We need to get to Ft. Wayne now. I don't want to wait until morning."

Her hand touched his forehead feeling for fever. "Then I guess we won't be offering you anything to eat. I'll have Dave get the van ready."

"An ambulance might be safer for him."

"The van doubles as transport. He'll be lying down. Got a hook for the IV and everything." She left them alone.

Al saw worry in Sam's face. It's not that he hadn't seen it earlier, but enough time passed for him to settle down. This was a concerned doctor Sam look. "Okay, what's wrong?"

"Maybe nothing, but those bruises on your back weren't there two hours ago."

"You mean the asshole really hurt me? I figured I'd be sore, but not more than that." His hospital phobia began to kick in. "I don't need a hospital. You can do everything here."

"Al, if I thought I could I would, but if you have a kidney bleeding, then you might need surgery. I can't diagnose that here and I sure can't do the surgery."

"Surgery? You're talking surgery now?"

Agitation wouldn't do the patient any good. "No one is talking surgery."

"You said surgery. I heard you."

"Calm down, Al. I'm sure you're fine. I just want to be careful." Soothing Al's fears wasn't going to be easy. "You have to settle down. It's just a precaution."

He heard Sam. He even believed Sam, but his life held too many moments when he thought things might be okay and things got screwed. Maybe he didn't believe Sam. Maybe he did. Sam told him it was probably nothing, but Greg died when the guard kicked him in the back. Took a week and it was agonizing. That was fifteen years ago. He wasn't in Vietnam now. The hospital would just make sure things were right. God damn it. Why did he have to think about Greg? His eyes closed trying to block the memory of the Marine Sergeant's last attempts to breathe. There was nothing he could have done for him except promise he'd never forget. Why did he make those promises? Remembering hurt too fucking hard, but he kept promises. His word was the only thing of value he owned. He didn't hear himself mutter, "Damn it, Greg."

"Who's Greg?"

Sam's voice brought him back to the real situation. "No one. You know me, Sam. I hate hospitals." Like the good Italian boy he was, Al had overreacting down to an art form. "They creep me out." His breathing got a little heavy.

Picking up Al's wrist, Sam started timing his pulse. It was a too fast, but not too bad. "You're getting agitated. I really think you're fine. Don't worry."

Whether he was sick or not wasn't the question really. It was the hospital itself. Anything that looked like confinement where people tied you down and stuck things into your body - anything like that was a return trip to Vietnam and the pain he feared was pain from the past. Sam didn't know that. He attributed it to some childish hatred of doctors. Maybe there was some of that mixed in, too. He didn't have many positive encounters with the medical profession when he was younger. They did nothing to keep his dad from dying. He wasn't even sure they were called in to help when Trudy's lungs filled fluid and she drowned in her own infection. His own sensibility brought him out of his panic. "I know I'm okay, Sam. It's just. . ." he paused to find a reason that had nothing to do with him, "This was too close for Katie. Way too close."

Half an hour later Dave was driving the van with Al stretched out in the back, Sam and Deb monitoring the IV and trying to make the bumpy road as painless as possible. Al kept his eyes closed hoping to avoid any kind of conversation. All he wanted was for there to be an end to this day, an end that didn't involve surgery.

The car behind them carried Jason, Tom, Thelma and a shaken Katie who laid her head on her mother's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Mom."

"I know, Katie. Al is strong. You'll see. They'll send him home with us." Her daughter started crying yet again. "This is worth crying over, sweetie. A lot happened to you today and I'm so glad the Admiral was here to help you and I'm so sorry none of the rest of us were. I hope you'll forgive us someday."

"As soon as you forgive me." Katie dried her eyes. "It's a miracle Sam and the Admiral had time to come out here, a real miracle."

The two car caravan pulled into Parkview Hospital around 8:30. The staff in the ER was waiting for the arrival of their prestigious patient. The head of every possible department that might be involved in the Admiral's care had been summoned. X-ray rooms were manned and waiting to make sure their honored guest was cared for well.

Dr. Alan Landecker was first in line to attend to the Admiral while a nurse took the history from Deb and Sam. He worked quickly, but methodically having all items ready to get the test results he wanted. Blood was drawn, temperature and blood pressure were taken, his heart rate monitored. The doctor was pleased to see that the cruel gash at the base of the Admiral's skull was neatly stitched, but the lump under it was big enough to be seen by the naked eye. X-rays were ordered and by 9:15 the Admiral was getting his picture taken.

Another hour later, Al fought increasing pain, but these new assaults were the result of having been manhandled by a lot of people looking to complete their jobs. It wasn't until almost two in the morning that everything was judged and a diagnosis could be made.

Landecker met with Al, Sam and Deb. His blue eyes and shock of red hair made him look younger than his 45 years. He offered seats to all and took one himself. "Looks like we have good news here. Looks like your attacker kicked you a few times in the back and damaged your right kidney, Admiral, but not too seriously. There's some bleeding, but it should heal on its own without a problem."

Al was so sleepy that he struggled to listen. "No surgery?"

"No surgery, but you will need bed rest and then you have to lay low for a few days. Nothing strenuous for awhile."

"Good. Let's get back to the camp."

Landecker squelched that idea. "Not tonight. I'd like you to stay overnight for observation and then tomorrow I scheduled a complete neurological exam. That takes time and it takes a rested patient. You're not going anywhere tonight."

The Admiral smiled at Sam. "This one sounds like he actually finished med school.

"The bump on your head is a good-sized hematoma. There is a small hairline skull fracture, but again, nothing to be overly concerned about. It's superficial. There's no intra-cranial bleeding, but that's one reason why I want a more thorough neurological exam tomorrow including a CAT scan. We have a private room waiting upstairs. We called in nursing staff specifically to care for you. I think you'll be comfortable here, Admiral."

Al's eyes labored to stay open and lost the battle. His forehead tightened down with a wince. "Just make it stop hurting."

"Once we get you to your room, we'll give you some pain meds."

Sam's relief was evident on his smiling face. "That's great news. I was a little nervous."

Al tried smiling again, his voice fading into sleep. "Now you tell me."

Half an hour later Al was asleep in the room upstairs and Sam settled into a chair not meant for dozing off, but it didn't matter. As far as he was concerned, he'd sleep standing in the corner. Al was not going to be left alone, not after what he did for Katie. He listened to Al breathing steadily and in peace. The comfort he felt lulled him into sleep as well.

The world was still dark when Sam startled from his rest. The Admiral's imaginative and relentless mind had him back in Vietnam again. The words were whispered, painful attempts to stop the torture. "He doesn't know. You're killing him."

Sam put his strong hand on the Admiral's clenched fist. "It's okay, Al. Wake up."

Words and a warm touch weren't going to do it. Al was still in hell "Stop. Take me. He's a kid." The despairing look on his face broke Sam's heart. "Please stop. Take me."

Stronger hands took Al's shoulders and gently shook him. The Admiral had to wake up. "You're in Ft. Wayne, Al. Wake up. It's a dream."

Dark brown eyes opened slowly and the fragile, embarrassed officer murmured, "Sorry." His eyes closed and within minutes the Admiral followed his own advice, hopefully without dreams of the past interfering with the rest he needed.

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_AUTHOR'S NOTE: All rights to this story are reserved. Neither the whole nor parts (with exception of short excerpts for review purposes) may be published elsewhere without written permission from the author. Thank you._


	6. Day Four A Visitor from the East

Road Trip - A Look before the Leap

The author thanks Bellasarius Productions, Universal Studios and any other creative entities responsible for Quantum Leap.

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**Day Four - A Visitor from the East**

By the time dawn came both men were awake. If Al remembered his nightmare he wasn't letting Sam in on it and Sam didn't want to pursue anything that might upset the man. He'd been through enough. They didn't talk much. They were both still tired.

Al found the control on his bed that got him sitting up. "What time is it, Sam?"

"Almost eight."

"Then I haven't eaten in about 20 hours. No wonder my stomach sounds like a pit stop at the Indy 500."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, it's been awhile. I'm hungry too. I'll be right back." A nurse was at the desk nearby Al's room. "Hi, I'm Dr. Beckett."

The young woman stood up and held out her hand. "Good to meet you, Dr. Beckett. I checked in on you and the Admiral about an hour ago. You were both sleeping pretty good."

"Must have been. I didn't hear you."

"I'm Lavonda Robbins, sir. Admiral Calavicci's vitals are all within normal range."

"Normal? Now, that's one word I rarely hear in the same sentence with Al's name."

"So I've been told. It's really an honor to meet both of you. You might not believe this, but we don't get many astronauts or Nobel Prize winners in Ft. Wayne."

"Suppose not." His face blushed a little and he had to change the subject. "The Admiral is hungry and he can eat a lot."

"I called down to the kitchen about twenty minutes ago. Breakfast for two should be up soon. In the meantime, since the Admiral is awake, I need to change the bandage on his head."

"I can do that. Don't bother."

"You are not going to keep me from meeting an astronaut. I'll be right in. I have to get a tray."

Sam saw that they were in good hands. Lavonda took her job seriously. She was the guardian at the gate.

The staff at the hospital treated the Admiral like the VIP he was. Lavonda worked hard keeping curious staff and patients away. She was even more protective when the occasional reporter started hanging around. Only one visitor made it through her gate and it was a surprise to both the Admiral and Sam.

The tall man in a Naval officer's uniform had a briefcase in one hand, a topcoat in the other and a look of near panic on his face. He stormed into Al's room and demanded, "I want to know why you didn't listen to me, you God damn son of a bitch."

Al had just gotten back from a CAT scan and he didn't want or need scolding. "Can it, A.J. Just get that bastard in prison and dishonorably discharged."

The JAG attorney ignored his friend and talked to Sam. "Is he really okay?"

"He will be. Bed rest for a few days, then nothing strenuous for a few more. We were lucky, A.J. Chuck was trying to kill him."

"I'll need your statement, yours and anyone else who witnessed this pig." The anger in A.J.'s eyes was sharing space with tremendous upset, and fear that his friend could have been killed. Making his way to the Admiral's side he looked down and said, "Do you know that I was personally summoned by the President to come here and take care of this. He woke me out of a sound sleep last night. What I want to know is why you didn't call me thirty seconds after this happened."

"Like I was in any position to call you!. Al waited and when he figured A.J. was done raving, he decided to speak. "Anyway, nice to see you too, Captain. It's usual to salute a superior officer."

"When I see one, I will."

"Stop bawling me out. I didn't plan this, but since I'm going to be fine, I'm glad he tried it. Gets him out of Katie's life and into a jail cell."

A.J. put his hand on the Admiral's arm. "I didn't pull your sorry little ass out of that pit in Vietnam just to have some prick throw you into a lake to drown." He dropped his own sorry ass into a chair and relief spread through him. "Damn it, Al. You scared me. I haven't been scared like this in years."

Sam didn't even know he spoke aloud. "Me either. He came close."

A.J. looked at Sam for a true answer to his next question. "How close, Sam?"

"When we pulled him out of the lake, his heart was beating, but he wasn't breathing. He coughed out a lot of water. That's why we started IV antibiotics right away."

Al wanted the conversation to lighten up. "The asshole ruined my custom made dress blues. That uniform fit like a glove. The shoulders were just right. Add destruction of private property to the charges."

"I have to admit it, Al. You may be a lot of things, but boring isn't one of them. I am going to nail this guy. Charles Harvey Zdenek is dead meat."

Sam and Al unisoned, "Harvey?"

A.J. put his briefcase on Al's bed and opened it up. He pulled out a camera and knew exactly the reaction he'd get when he said, "I need pictures."

Al tightened up. "Of what?"

"What he did to you."

"I don't think so."

A.J. had to get the pictures, but he knew more about Al's hesitation than anyone else did. "It's got to happen, Al. Every bit of evidence I can gather will help keep the guy in prison. Would you prefer Sam took them?"

It hadn't occurred to him that anyone would need to see the marks on his body and it wasn't even the bruises that bothered him. Cameras aren't selective. If it took a picture of the bruise then the marks he bore from his past would be there as well. Just three days earlier Senator O'Reilly accused him of using his time in Vietnam as a tool to manipulate. Now, these photos would be in evidence and again he could be accused of using his years of torture to influence a decision. But he shook the idea from his head. His distress was ridiculous. He wasn't a psycho case. Let him take whatever pictures he wanted. "Just do it, A.J."

With Sam's help, A.J. took two rolls of pictures. The camera clicked, the flashed popped lights and after five minutes it was done. Throughout it all, Al kept his eyes shut. He didn't need any visual memory of the event. "All done. Thanks, Al." Sam helped get Al back into the hospital gown. "He really did a number on you. You lucked out, buddy. According to his personnel file, Chuckie is six five and weighs 237 pounds most of which is muscle." A.J. sat back down. "I'm going to put him away, Al. I'll make sure he'll pay. This time, I can do something. I'm not going to let you down."

"You never did let me down. Why would you start now?" The palm of his hand pushed against his forehead trying to get rid of the headache starting to punch at him.

Sam adjusted the bed and got Al in a better position to sleep. "Listen, nod off for awhile. You've had a busy day."

Al didn't argue and that just confirmed Sam's decision to insist on at least one more day of rest in the hospital. His friend had to be a little stronger before they went back to the camp. He nodded toward the door and A.J. followed him out of Al's room leaving the Admiral able to close his eyes and rest.

"I need to find a place to stay. Where would you recommend?"

"My cousin's camp. You need to come out there anyhow so we can show you exactly what happened and you'll be able to get all of our statements."

"Thanks. I'll take you up on it." They walked down the hall. "Is he really going to be okay, Sam? He looks like shit."

"I need a cup of coffee. Want one?" Sam pointed toward the elevator. "I need something to eat too. The cafeteria is upstairs."

The two men sat at a table. The tray in Sam's hands held a couple of sandwiches, potato chips and Sam's coffee. A.J. opted for a coke. "Sam, you didn't answer me before. Is he going to be okay?"

"Should be, but I'm worried about him."

"He's got you being a card-carrying member of the club, too?" Sam was chewing and couldn't answer, but he looked incredibly puzzled. A.J. tried to explain. "There are about half dozen of us." A.J. slugged down most of his coke. "Even though I knew him from before, he got me back in '73. When we pulled him from that camp, I would have sworn he'd be dying in a few hours. Then he not only survives, but makes it into NASA where he crash-lands a shuttle. Sometimes I think he has a death wish. Can't say that I'd blame him if he did."

"How did you get him out of Nam?"

"That's a story for Al to tell, not me. He's closed up about what happened to him there so I just figure that whatever my wildest imagination can conceive, it had to be worse. You know, Sam. I was a SEAL and I thought I was tough. I acted like it in Vietnam, but when I pulled Al out of that pit, my life changed. I was rotated back home about two weeks later and when my wife met me I held onto her and cried and I couldn't stop. That made my decision for me. I went back to school and became an attorney. I wanted options and I lucked out. I still get to be a Navy officer, but now I serve in JAG." He finished the coke. "If they call me back for combat for whatever reason, I'll go, but it will be a different man who'll go this time. None of the fake glory stuff. There is no glory in what happened to our guys in Nam, guys like Al. There's only sadness and he's still paying for it. You and I both know why he didn't want me taking pictures."

"I can understand not wanting people to see them all the time, but they're a badge of honor. There's nothing to be ashamed of."

A.J. laughed. "Spoken like a true civilian."

Sam insisted, "But there is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Torture just isn't a physical thing, Sam. They did things to humiliate and denigrate our men, things to make them feel like inhuman, lowlife scum. Now, I probably shouldn't say this, but Al spent his life pulling himself out of the gutters everybody and their brother threw him into. Then he gets housed by the most sadistic commandants at the most deplorable prison camp history has seen. Trust me, the physical stuff isn't what eats at him."

They finished lunch talking about music and getting driving instructions to the camp. A.J. left Sam to talk to Chuck in the jail cell he'd been transferred to in Ft. Wayne. Back at Al's room, the doctor found his patient sleeping. He sat down and just watched the Admiral's chest rise and fall in rhythm. The last few days were overwhelming for him and he wasn't the one lying in a hospital bed with a bruised kidney, a skull fracture and 14 stitches in his head. He made a decision. There would be no more questions about the past. Al had reasons for staying quiet and Sam would respect them and the Admiral even more than he had before - if that were possible.

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_AUTHOR'S NOTE: All rights to this story are reserved. Neither the whole nor parts (with exception of short excerpts for review purposes) may be published elsewhere without written permission from the author. Thank you._


	7. Day Five A Second Reprieve

Road Trip - A Look before the Leap

The author thanks Bellasarius Productions, Universal Studios and any other creative entities responsible for Quantum Leap.

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**Day Five - A Second Reprieve**

Sam managed to convince Al to stay at Parkview another night. The complete lack of anything to do helped the Admiral do what had to be done. He rested and slept allowing his body to regain strength after the battering it took. It was late afternoon when Sam and Al were once again in their rented car and on their way to Camp Amazing Grace.

"Free at last. You can't imagine how good it feels to be wearing pants."

Sam laughed. "It's not anything I've considered, but I'll have to think about it."

Al stared out the window. "This is one flat state."

"When you're a farmer, flat is a lovely thing. My father's family has been farming here since the mid-1800s. It's good country."

"Yeah, I guess it would be. You did alright here, that's for sure."

Sam thought back to his youth and he just started talking. "I liked growing up in Elk Ridge. It was safe. I didn't have to worry about locking my door. There didn't seem to be a lot to be afraid of. That kind of existence is ideal for a child. Every kid should grow up like that." As soon as he heard the words leave his mouth, he regretted it. "I'm sorry, Al."

"Listen, kid, stop apologizing for having a terrific childhood. You're right. Every kid should grow up like that. Some do and some don't. Get over it."

"I don't want to."

Al smiled. "I guess I don't want to either. One of the things I hope Quantum Leap will do is help kids be happy and safe. We got to, Sam. If we don't then it's all for nothing."

The two men spoke often about the potential for good their project would do, but this was the first time it got down to something as basic as making a child's life happy. Sam thought they finally hit on the most profound thing they might accomplish. His incredible brain began to calculate the potential for positive change if a single child's life was improved. Al didn't have to calculate it. He had the proof sitting next to him.

They pulled into the campgrounds and just like the first time they did so, everyone poured out of the house to greet the returning heroes. Thelma took Al's arm and gently held him as they walked in. "I'm so glad you're back home. How are you feeling?"

"Really, I'm fine. It was much ado about nothing."

Thelma shook her head. "That's what you think."

Once in the house, Al was ushered into the living room and guided to the big lazy boy that had been moved a little closer to the fireplace. Dave said, "Your throne awaits."

"Don't go overboard with this. I'm fine."

Katie sat on the arm of the chair next to Al. "I'm so glad to hear that. I thought he killed you."

Sam hung up his and Al's coats. "He almost did."

He wanted it all to go away. "We can find something else to talk about, can't we?" Looking into Katie's eyes he saw her grateful heart beaming. "You're away from him and he's going to prison for a very long time. A.J. Chegwidden is a good attorney.

A.J. entered the room from the adjacent camp office. "You never told me you thought I was good at anything."

Laughing Al asked, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"That's more like it. Dave and Deb invited me. I'm bunking in the lodge. Your old digs, I understand."

Al looked at Sam, "I'm not throwing anyone out of a bedroom. I can stay at the lodge."

It was her camp and her decision so Deb told him in no uncertain terms, "You're sleeping in the infirmary. There's a very nice, comfortable bed in there and one of us will be your duty nurse for the next few nights."

It wasn't over and he didn't like that fact. Too much was going on in his head. Everything was making him nervous even though everyone was treating him like family. Actually, maybe that was part of the problem. He never had family to care about him and now that he was infiltrating this group, he was apprehensive. They were so kind to him though that he didn't know how to tell them to back off a little. Things were crowding him.

Sam caught the flash of anxiety in the Admiral's eyes. "Yeah, Al, we drew straws and I lost. I get night watch." Maybe if Al realized the others wouldn't witness any nightmares, he could feel more at ease. "No one else could put up with your snoring."

And Sam was right. Al relaxed a little. "Me snore? You're the one that could wake the dead."

Winking at A.J. Sam said, "He's back to normal, unfortunately."

Katie got up and wagged her finger in Sam's face. "You leave him alone. He outranks you."

Reverting back to childhood torments, Sam grabbed his sister and started tickling her. "Maybe, but I outrank you!"

Thelma pulled them apart. "Some things never change even if they should. Now both of you go to your corners and stay there." She laughed, her face glowing with matriarchal pride. "Honestly, the two of you will be the death of me."

Deb started wandering toward the kitchen. "Well, now that we're all home, I can get dinner moving along here. I hope you're hungry, Al."

"Starving. Hospital food doesn't do much for me."

Half an hour later the dining room was filled once again. The ladies placed platter after platter of food in front of Al and he was served first making the rest of the men whine. A.J. especially got into the mood. "You know, he gets everything. Just because he's an Admiral which I still think was a mistake somewhere along the line, he gets all the attention."

Pulling rank, Al told the subordinate, "You should be used to it by now, Captain." Thelma served the Admiral a healthy portion of Brussels sprouts. "That looks great. I love Brussels sprouts."

Sam scrunched his nose. "Brussels sprouts? Mutant little cabbages."

Shaking his head Al goaded, "Wimp."

Joining in the teasing Thelma added, "All I could get him to eat when he was a boy was meat and potatoes. Anything that had color was a wasted effort on my part."

"Some people will never learn, Thelma."

They ate for what seemed like hours, but the conversation was light and happy. Lives were on the mend and no one had any complaints. They finished and it was time to gather in the living room again. A.J. asked for some private time with Al and Sam. The mood suddenly changed and everyone knew something was going on that wasn't going to be good.

Al settled into the big chair, pulling back the handle to raise the footrest. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing really. It's just that we have a small bump to get over. Chuck is a jerk and he's still trying to get you."

Now Sam was feeling the same jitters that Al was trying to hide. "Get to him how?"

A.J. pulled a small notepad from his pocket. "Let me get the quote straight." He flipped through the book. "Here it is. 'Admiral Calavicci threatened me before I had a chance to say anything. He threw the first punch and I didn't know what else to do. He kept coming after me. I want him in jail for assault. I want to see him doing more time. I want him in prison again.'" A.J. put the book away. "So, the idiot maintains you were the aggressor and he fought in self-defense."

"That's a crock of shit, A.J. and you know it."

"Of course, I do. We have a witness to him stomping on you and tossing you into the water. If it were self-defense, then there would have been no need to do either since you were unconscious at the time. I wanted you to know because his attorney is trying to press charges against you."

"Charges?"

"He's just making noise. Here's the problem. I can stop the charges. That's a no-brainer, but he's released that statement to the press. It's going to be in the papers."

Al's fists clenched in anger. "Fucking asshole."

Nodding in agreement A.J. added, "At the very least."

"Al, I'm sorry. My brother-in-law is doing this to you, well, it's ridiculous. How do we combat this, A.J.?"

"We don't. If we try this in public, then it gives him more credibility."

Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. "He really said he wanted to see Al in prison?"

"'In prison again' were his exact words. Chuck wants people to assume Al was a criminal."

"Then we have to say something. He didn't go to jail, for God's sake. He was a POW."

"I'll handle it, Sam. I will simply say the allegations are not true and that the only time Al was in prison was during the war. Then we have to drop it. No comments from anyone especially you."

A.J. and Sam continued their conversation, but Al was oblivious to it all. He was back in his own head feeling energy drain from his soul. The room began to heat up for him and the humidity began to sting his eyes. It got harder to breathe. It was always hard to breathe there. The river made the air heavy and his lungs didn't ever seem to get enough oxygen. He damned himself for falling back into the old patterns. This was Indiana, a safe place, but he wasn't here. He was there. Fuck, his head was screwed up and all because some prick with shit for brains spouts off something stupid. Sam finally saw the telltale sign of Al's psychological pain.

Crouched by the chair he put his hand on Al's arm. "Listen to me, Al. No one will believe him. We all know the truth. You're here with us now. You know that, don't you?"

He knew it, but he still felt the hell of that camp by the river, the one where his cage was kept in four feet of water. "Yeah, I know. I'm not certifiable, yet."

A.J. wasn't sure what was happening. "Is he okay?"

"I'm right here, A.J."

"Sorry, Al. You look a little shook up."

He had to laugh. "That's one way of putting it." Shaking the images of the Mekong from his head was hard, but he was determined to get back to the warm home and his friends. "I'm okay. I want to answer his charges publicly."

"I'd advise against that. You don't want to give him more publicity. Just bury your need to get back at him with this. You'll get him when he's in jail for trying to kill you."

Bury his feelings again - he'd done it before. This was Katie's story anyhow and he didn't want the reason he and Chuck fought to get lost in the frenzy. "Listen to me carefully. I want you to charge him with spousal abuse as well. This isn't about me. Katie was the victim long before I horned in. You can't be forgetting her in all this."

"She and I have talked about it. The kid's pretty brave. She's going to testify against him on all charges including spousal abuse. I took pictures of the marks on her arms like I took photos of you. We have a lot of strong evidence." He wanted the Admiral to come back, "Even you could try this case and win."

There was no smile, no reaction at all. Al was lost in the past and both his friends could see the concentration on his face. He was trying to come back and not having a lot of success. Sam was still crouched at his side. "What do we need to do right now, Al?"

Try as he might, he didn't know what to tell Sam. "I haven't a clue, Sam. It's all right. I don't know why I'm getting worked up like this. Makes no sense." He put his hands over his face. "Damn it. Maybe I'm nuts. Maybe I did hit him first."

A.J. nervously said, "I didn't hear that."

With more than a little anger Sam turned and snapped. "Chuck outweighs him by nearly 100 pounds. Al didn't throw the first punch. He's smarter than that."

A defeated voice muttered, "Ninety-five." Clenching his teeth helped him control his temper. "A.J., he came at me first. I was just talking." His eyes closed. "All of a sudden I'm tired."

Sam hadn't moved from his position. "You want to rest here or should we get you into the infirmary and into bed?"

What he really wanted to do was hide. The exhaustion he felt was overwhelming, but he wasn't going to give in. He head was coming back to Indiana and he wanted to stay there. The infirmary would have to wait. "It's too early, Sam. You're like a mother hen. Cut it out, okay?" He looked his buddy in the eye. "Go away." The doctor retreated to the couch. "Now that you're comfortable, Sam, get me something to drink, okay?"

The doctor hopped to his feet. "Anything you wish, my liege."

"About time you started treating me with some respect." He found a smile and it brought him closer to being on solid ground. "Club soda if you got it."

"Not sure about the club soda, but I know there's root beer."

In his head, Al said, "Lighten up, Calavicci. Have a good time. Get back to your old self." Sam didn't hear that. Sam heard, "Root beer, nectar of the gods. Get me a glass, a big glass." Sam started out. "Lots of ice. Chill the mug!"

Sam turned back and glared at his friend. "Chill the mug? You serious?"

"I never kid about root beer."

The thought of root beer had A.J. cringing. "Root beer is syrup with bubbles."

"Your point being?"

"How old are you?"

"Last time I checked I was 52." He felt a decade older and a decade younger at the same time. "Can't say that I know why 52 seems impossible, but it does." Chuck's accusation flashed into his head again.

The Admiral's eyes told volumes of stories and A.J. had read them all. "He won't get away with it, Al. Trust me to take care of him."

"I don't need this. I really don't need this at all."

"He's not getting out of prison. If I have my way, he'll suffer in there for years and years and we'll lose the key."

A half-hearted laugh had Al agreeing, "Yeah, lose the key."

One by one more Erskines and Becketts made their way into the living room. Dave told stories on his cousin Sam that had Al taking notes. "Streaking, Sam? I didn't know you had it in you or off of you so to speak. I got to remember that one."

"Everyone was doing it."

Sam was under attack and Al was delighted. "So, kid, showing off your shortcomings?"

"Al, my sister and my mother are here! For Pete's sake."

Thelma starting shaking her finger at her son. "Don't use me as an excuse to cover your butt."

Everyone was stunned except for Al. He roared immediately at Thelma's needling. "You tell him, Thelma."

The Admiral continued laughing and Sam was more than willing to be the source of fun. He was finally seeing his old friend again. "Go ahead and laugh. It was 1970. I was only 18. What were you doing in '70?" Once again, he heard the words coming from his mouth and he couldn't stop them. "Why do I even talk? I'm sorry, Al."

"It's okay, Sam. That was a long time ago."

Jason wanted to know more. "Were you in prison then, sir?"

Dave stopped his son, "Son, that's an inappropriate thing to ask."

"Thanks, Dave, but it's all right." Al looked at the young man and told him. "Yes, I was still MIA in 1970."

The younger boy asked, "How did you get captured?"

Al said nothing and his eyes went to the ceiling, then closed as his head dropped back down. Sam tried to give him a way out. "You don't have to say anything, Al. You're here now."

"Tom asked and he deserves an answer." The boy's face was eager and full of the hope of innocence. "It's not such a dramatic thing. I was flying a mission over North Vietnam and got hit by a missile. My plane started going down so I ejected." The sound of the missile hitting his plane blasted in his head. The noise was something he'd never forget. He began to rub his right forearm. "I landed pretty hard and broke both bones in my arm and shattered my elbow and dislocated my shoulder. It didn't even hurt at first. I just couldn't get my arm to work, which would have been okay, except that meant I couldn't send up signal flares. I thought it was okay, though because my wingman saw me go down. I figured I'd hide out until they sent in a rescue chopper to pick me up, but after three days of seeing nothing. I pretty much knew I was in trouble."

Tom wanted to know more. "How long was it before they found you?"

The first day was okay. It was clear even if it was 100 degrees. The second day it started raining and it never stopped. By the third day, pain was intense and the wet jungle oppressive. He almost welcomed the VC rousting him from his hiding place. Right now, all he could bring himself to tell Tom was, "Very early morning, four days later. They walked me to their camp and that was the beginning."

The boy's eyes were wide with the intrigue of being taken captive. "Wow, and you were there six years? That's a long time."

It was easy to see that Tom was fascinated with the idea of being held captive by evil warlords. "You need to know that there is nothing noble or heroic about being MIA. Somehow this mythology has grown up over it all. I wasn't any kind of hero. I was scared every single day and they kept me that way on purpose." Hundreds of incidents flashed by his mind's eye and he could bring none to voice. He was done talking about it.

Sam noticed the fingers on Al's hand clenching and loosening over and over. It was time to change the conversation. "I need another beer. Anyone want anything?"

It was past eleven and Al was tired. "Yeah, I think I want to get some sleep." Rising from the chair took a little more effort than he wanted, but it was a very long day. "So, who's going to show me my new room?"

Deb put her hand in his and led him toward the infirmary entry at the far end of the kitchen. "Come with me."

He was Al Calavicci and certain moments would never be overlooked. Turning back to the group he teased, "This could be fun."

Without thinking Dave said, "Not with my wife." There was a roar of laughter from everyone. Realizing what it sounded like he turned crimson, "That's not what I mean." The laughter continued with more enthusiasm. "I think I'm going to stop now."

Deb was laughing harder than everyone else. "Good idea. See what you get later." Once they were in the infirmary Deb showed Al the small bedroom off to the side. "This should be very comfortable." She opened up a drawer and told Al, "I unpacked your clothes. Sam said you're meticulous about them and I just put them all away for you. I hope you don't mind."

"No, thanks a lot. I appreciate it."

Deb turned the bed down for Al. "Sam will be taking the night shift. I couldn't convince him to let someone else stay with you, but you know Sam."

"He thinks he's responsible for Chuck and me, doesn't he?"

Her smile was Al's answer, but she told him, "That's what I said. You know Sam. Anything else I can do for you?"

"Thanks. I'm fine. See you in the morning." Deb left and in five minutes, he was in bed. He was tired, but he felt good. Jason and Tom asked about Vietnam and he actually told part of his story, not much of it, but at least it was something. No one was going to hear any more of it, but at least some of it got out. Those first days were bad at the time, but he had the wisdom of hindsight now. They were easy, vacation days before the real work of staying alive began. Memory of the real work chilled his sore body. He asked for sleep and his request was kindly granted.

Half an hour later Sam came softly to Al's bedside and listened to the Admiral breathe. It was a good sound, solid, full, what he wanted to hear. He sat in the recliner three feet away from the end of the bed and tried to catch some sleep himself. It came almost as quickly as his patient's.

Those first days of captivity invaded Al's dreams. He was all Navy and gave them only what he was told to say. "Calavicci, Albert M., Lieutenant, United States Navy." But they yanked at his broken arm. He thought he understood pain before. The guard twisting his broken bones was beyond his imagination. "Fuck you!" The guard turned the bones the other direction and he swallowed the scream and started in again. "Calavicci, Albert . . ." They suspended him by the broken arm, pushing at him like kids playing tetherball. "Cala . . ."

Sam heard the sounds and knew it was happening again. Too much conversation about Vietnam brought Al into that dark room in his mind. He brought his friend back to Indiana with gentle words and the touch of a friendly hand. "Come on, Al."

The Admiral woke from his terrors. He said nothing to Sam, barely even looking at him. Al's eyes shut and he fell asleep again, well pretended to.

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_AUTHOR'S NOTE: All rights to this story are reserved. Neither the whole nor parts (with exception of short excerpts for review purposes) may be published elsewhere without written permission from the author. Thank you._


	8. Day Six Back at Camp

Road Trip - A Look before the Leap

The author thanks Bellasarius Productions, Universal Studios and any other creative entities responsible for Quantum Leap.

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**Day Six - Back at Camp**

Daylight filtered through barren winter trees and the glint finally woke Al. He looked over at the recliner and found A.J. sitting there reading a book. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too. Sam's sleeping. Seems you kept him up most of the night."

"Shit. I got to stop doing that."

"Good idea." A.J. put his book down. "I wanted to talk to you before I went into Ft. Wayne to visit Chuck."

Sitting up in bed Al asked, "Can I shower first?"

"No, I'm running late as it is."

Al ran his fingers through his rumpled curly hair. "Come on. Give me half an hour."

"I'm supposed to be in Ft. Wayne in an hour. It's eleven o'clock."

"It can't be."

"Yeah, it can. Apparently you needed to sleep. Sam's taking his turn now." A.J. had to get on with things. "Listen, Al. Chuck has a JAG attorney assigned to him, Commander Roberta Corley. She called me earlier. They're going public with the charges against you today. Now, I know you said you didn't mean it, but I have to be 100 sure." He stopped because he had no desire to ask his friend the question he had to ask.

He didn't like being doubted especially when it came to something as significant as what happened on the pier. "I didn't hit him first. I didn't threaten him physically. I told him we knew about what he was doing to Katie and that it was going to stop. Happy?"

"I had to be sure. Sorry."

Al lay back down, still tired, weary actually. "So go. Leave me alone."

"I had to be sure, Al. You know that. I'm going to face reporters and I want to be able to tell them I just talked to you again and you and everyone else says the same thing. Chuck is a lying son of a bitch."

He didn't want to be angry with A.J., but he was. Lawyers had to ask the same damn questions time and time again even when the answers were always the same. "You tell them if they have any questions about what happened they can talk to me anytime. I'll tell them what they want to know." Staring at A.J. he added, "And I'll answer any of your questions, too."

A.J. stood up. "You can stop with the feeling hurt crap, Al. I have a job to do and it's basically a cakewalk unless you start acting stupid. You are not talking to the press, got it?"

So what if A.J. was right. He had his pride, for what it was worth. "Go tell the fourth estate to fuck itself."

Picking up his briefcase A.J. said, "Now, that I can do." He was almost out the door when he turned back toward his friend. "Al?"

Pride goes before a fall and the Admiral felt his pride tumbling down more steps than were in the Washington Monument. "Yeah?"

"Why don't you spend a little more time resting. You're kind of on edge."

"You think so?" He sat up again and looked at the man who pulled him from hell back in '73. "Thanks, A.J. I know you're the best and I'm counting on you."

"That's what friends do for friends. You got a lot of friends, Al. Try to remember that."

A.J. left him alone and staying in bed. Hiding from everyone appealed to him. God, this was what depression was, wasn't it? Why did it have to hit out here where he couldn't go into hiding? This wasn't his home. He was being held there, not against his will, but it was still like being held prisoner. Too much analyzing. Get up, take a shower. Do something - although what there was to do was beyond him. Doctor's orders only gave him permission to rest.

Deb walked in seconds later. "You slept in. That's good. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. I wish everyone would just stop worrying."

"It must be a pain to have us hovering over you. I would like to check the stitches, if that's okay."

Al threw his feet over the side of the bed as Deb took a look at the laceration on his head. "Looks good. I'd say you can get that wet now. Just be careful."

The offer of a real shower was a joyous thing. "A shower? I can take a real shower and wash my hair? Don't tease me."

Laughing at his comment she said, "Enjoy yourself. I'll get your robe and show you to the master bath. Then we get to feed you again."

"I hear it's almost noon."

"You had a difficult night. Sam and I both thought it was better you slept in." She pulled his robe from the closet. The silk fabric was heavy and expensive. "This is so nice. I wish Dave would wear a robe like this. He's got this ratty terry cloth thing that he's had since before we got married. It's awful."

Deb helped him put on the robe. "I have one of those too. It's back at my apartment. This is my 'going out of town' robe."

"Dave doesn't even do that. He takes it with him like Linus holds onto his blanket." She and Al walked through the connecting door into the main house and into a huge bathroom with a Jacuzzi and big walk-in shower. Fresh towels hung on the racks. "If you'd like, you can spend some time in the Jacuzzi. Might feel good."

"I just may take you up on it."

"You want me to lay out some clothes for you?"

She was taking incredible care of him. He was liked the attention, but he kidded, "You looking to become a valet?"

"Hey, enjoy the pampering while you can. It won't last long around here." On her way out she asked, "I'm making some vegetable soup. You want some with lunch?"

"Sounds good." After Deb left him, he locked the door. The Jacuzzi's water jets felt terrific and he took his ever-loving time. An hour later, he came out. His hair was still wet when he walked back into the living room. Sam was watching Jeopardy. "Thought you drowned in there."

He smiled. "Candido Giacuzzi was a genius. We got to get one of those at the project, Sam."

"Where we going to put it?" Sam turned to his buddy.

Al cracked, "My room?" Sam's stared with eyes that got bigger and bigger and Al got nervous. "What's wrong? I'm growing a second head?"

"Your hair is curly."

"You just realizing this?"

He couldn't stop staring. "I never saw it wet before. It's really curly."

Al and Sam had odd conversations on occasion, but this was bizarre. "You pulled me out of a lake. Of course, you've seen my hair wet." Sam looked like he was watching the Titanic go down. "It's hair, Sam and yes, it is really curly. Be grateful yours isn't."

Thelma walked into the room. "What's this all about?"

Sam kept staring. "Al's hair. It's curly. It's all in these little rings. Now I know why you travel with a blow dryer."

Thelma looked longingly at Al's curls. "I wish my hair had some curl to it.

Sam wasn't paying attention to anything but the curliness of Al's hair. He rarely uttered truly stupid words, but he was saying one dumb thing after another. "I never saw hair that curly on a white guy."

Sighing in disbelief Al asked, "You done?"

"I think so."

Like too many people had done in the past, Thelma had to touch the curls on Al's head. "It's really beautiful. You're lucky."

He liked Thelma, liked her a lot, but playing with his hair was just something that made him cringe since he was a little boy. There was a time to say something and then there were times not to. Weird thing, it didn't seem so bad when Thelma touched his hair. For some reason he thought that her touch must be what it was like to have a mother who cared. "Sometimes it's okay, but mostly it's a pain in the neck. I have to put up with cracks from people like your son."

Thelma enjoyed teasing her son. "Oh, just ignore him. We learned to do that years ago."

"You'll have to give me some pointers. Now, if you'll both excuse me, I want pants. I'll be out in a few minutes."

Fifteen minutes later, Al came out of the infirmary wearing typical Calavicci garb. The hunter green slacks were matched perfectly by the suede shirt. A silver tie was set off center. "I feel human again. A shower, clean hair." He grabbed his collar. "My suede shirt. I'm back!"

Sam grinned from ear to ear. "Feeling good?"

"Not bad, Sam." He sat across from his buddy. "I hear you've been spending nights sitting up with me." Pausing a second he continued, "And that I haven't been having very good nights."

Too much needed saying, but neither man wanted to get into it so when Thelma called out, "Lunch is ready," they stampeded into the kitchen.

They ate and laughed, ate a little more and then moved on. Al had to get out of the house, time to get some air and throw off more of the "I'm injured" cloak enveloping him. He pulled his overcoat from the hall closet. "I'm going for a walk."

"Want company?"

"Not right now." When he got to the entry he told Sam, "Don't worry. I'm not going to wander off and get lost in the woods."

"Please. That's all I need." Al's hand hit the door and Sam had to say, "Don't stay out too long. It's going to start snowing."

Without turning to face Sam, Al smiled at the parental admonition. "I won't be long." He left the house and walked toward the pier.

Katie heard the door open and came from the kitchen. "Where's Al going?"

"He wanted to take a walk. He walks a lot." Sam patted the seat next to him on the couch. "Sit with me a little." Little sister sat down and Sam put his arm around her. "Have I apologized to you yet?"

"For what?"

"For being too dense to realize what was happening to you. How long was this going on?"

Katie curled up in his arms. "A long time. It started before we were married."

"Why didn't you tell me? We would have been able to get you away from him."

"Oh, Sam, you don't understand at all, do you." His sad eyes looked at her. "You never did. You have no clue what it was like being your little sister. I'm not a genius. I'm good enough at stuff, but when your brother is a genius, there's a lot to live up to and I knew I couldn't. If I got a B on a test, I'd hear, 'your brother never got a B.'"

"From Mom and Dad?"

"From all the teachers. I never played piano like you. I couldn't do anything as well, so when Chuck wanted to get me away from the farm and everyone saying, 'You're Sam's sister' or 'I knew Tom,' I just had to leave. It wasn't much of a life with Chuck, but it was mine."

Sam's heart broke. All of Elk Ridge bragged about him. It never occurred to him that Katie suffered from his notoriety. "Then it's my fault."

"It was my own stupidity. You don't need to take credit for it."

"But I should have paid better attention. I mean Al caught it right away."

"He heard me and Chuck fighting."

"Even before that, he felt something was off about Chuck. I didn't listen to him." He held her even closer. "Katie, I love you so much. You didn't deserve this at all. Please promise me that if you need help with anything that you'll call me right away. Don't let it get out of hand. No one has the right to hurt you."

"Sam, I won't get into another situation like I had with Chuck."

There was a question Sam wanted to ask, but it was hard because he knew the answer he wanted and he was afraid it wouldn't be what he heard. "Do you still love him?"

It had only been a few days. The truth was not what she wanted to say. "Right now, I still do." She started to cry again. "I hate him, Sam, but I don't. What's wrong with me? He's in jail for attempted murder and not just of anyone. No, he picks an astronaut whose been nominated for a Nobel Prize."

His finger tapped the end of her nose. "Yes, but Al didn't win. I did."

Her elbow found his ribs. "But Al should have."

The future was starting to be brighter and he had to tell his baby sister, "Just wait, Katie. In a few years, he'll have his first Noble and I'll have my second."

Katie got excited. "Really? What are you two up to?"

He wanted to tell her. It had been days since he talked about Quantum Leap and he'd almost forgotten how thrilling the concept was, but Katie didn't have clearance. No one did except the Admiral. "Can't tell you. You might be a foreign agent." Big brother kissed little sister. "I got to find Al."

The Admiral found himself down on the camp's pier, the scene of his run in with Chuck. He found the pylon that cracked open his head. Weather hadn't washed the evidence away. Marks where blood actually dripped down the post had oxidized to a reddish brown. He'd bled a lot, a lot more than he thought. Head wounds bleed a lot though. They always used to when he got bashed over the head in Vietnam. His hand unconsciously found the healing. It stung a little, but the lump was a lot smaller. His hand then wiped across his face, a gesture so typical for him that it became part of Star Bright sign language. If Al were coming, the spotter would warn others by mimicking the gesture. He knew about it and let it go. It was kind of funny to him anyhow.

He walked to the end of the pier and stared into the water. It was the edge of winter; weather that never came in Vietnam, but this place, this pier, this water had a feel to it. It was like the months he was caged in the Mekong. Daily he would fall, unable to support himself above the water line, inhaling the murky sludge pretending to be a river. The memory of wanting to die, trying to drown sneered at him saying, "You didn't have the guts, Calavicci."

He wished he had gone to visit the brunette in Delaware instead of getting into all the trouble of the last few days. His ladies seemed to keep his mind from perseverating on the past. Rolling his eyes skyward he thought Gooshie and his bright idea nearly got him killed. A road trip to get to know Sam - an invitation to have every waking and sleeping moment consumed with thoughts of Vietnam. This water that somehow was the Mekong all over again, getting beaten senseless, Chuck wanting him to be sent back to prison, the recollection of getting shot down, the crap from Senator O'Reilly in DC, it was too much. For some reason, he wanted Trudy to be at his side. She was the only one in his life who loved him and never stopped. He told himself he needed to hold her again, but if had been honest, he would admit he was the one who needed to be held. That was weakness though and that was one thing he wouldn't confess to.

Sam approached him slowly, making sure his steps sounded out on the pier. Al's sharp hearing picked up the fact that he had company. He found Sam about 15 feet away. "Wondered when you'd get here."

"You still want to be alone?"

Hoping that a few deep breaths would send Vietnam back into the far recesses of his mind he smiled and told his friend, "No, I don't think so." A nearby bench seemed the logical place for them to sit. "It's been some trip, hasn't it?"

"It's almost half over. I was talking to Katie and I realized I hadn't thought about Quantum Leap for days. I don't believe it, but I don't think we actually talked about it more than five minutes since we left DC."

Thinking back, Al had to agree and sarcastically said, "Yeah, asking for 43 billion for a project that will employ maybe 100 people is a common thing on the hill."

They stared into the water, both with the same posture, leaning back, legs stretched out in front of them and hands in their pockets. "Why do we think we can travel in time?"

"Because the math works, for now."

Sam understood what Al meant and had to laugh. "Glad you didn't say that to the Committee."

"Those lunkheads? They're clueless about your theories. It's amazing math, Sam."

"Do you ever think that by the time we get to implement the theories that they'll be out of date?"

Good question and one Al had often considered. "Possibly, but the computer you're building will have the ability to incorporate current theory. You're not designing it for obsolescence. It's one of the selling points for the fed heads. "

Their last moments with the committee left Sam uncertain. "You still think we got the money, don't you?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, we got it."

"I wish I was as sure as you."

"You don't know Washington as well as I do. Janet wanted to get O'Reilly off the committee so we can get our unanimous approval. That's not what I'm worried about though."

Sam felt an extra heartbeat. "Worried?"

"Worry's not the right word. It's been on my mind. You know we've been talking about there being a lot more than three dimensions?" Sam was convinced that there were many more. "Well, I'm thinking that maybe gravity is another dimension and if it is, then that might be the way to get into those dimensions we haven't seen yet."

"Gravity? Why gravity?" His scientific mind started going into overdrive.

The Admiral didn't move. He just kept his eyes on the water and said, "Something has to carry information from one dimension to another and, in string theory, gravity has no mass and no charge, but it does have pull."

"So without mass and being neutral, gravity can move between dimensions without disturbing the string. Gravity as a communication device."

"Your theory sort of predicts the existence of gravitational particles anyhow, but yeah, gravity could be the way we can get into those other dimensions and see what's there."

"Well, the crack on the head didn't screw up your ability to theorize. I'm not sure how we can use the idea in Quantum Leap, but I want to think about it." He paused for a few seconds. "We'd have to be able to control gravitational forces."

"We already do in very primitive ways. At NASA we simulate weightlessness all the time. It was just something on my mind."

Sam was eternally grateful to have someone to talk to about such odd things as neutrinos, leptons and quarks. There were a lot of people working on the theories, but most of them were science geeks who never thought life existed outside a lab. The Admiral could discuss closed string theory and the next second be flirting with some girl in a short skirt. The geeks might possibly do the same, but Al would actually get to go home with her. Sam teased Al constantly about thinking of nothing other than sex, but it was playful and Al enjoyed being the resident dog.

The predicted snow began falling. Al looked into the sky. "Wonder if it's snowing in Tibet? You sure Gooshie is the man we want?'

"He's brilliant, Al. He doesn't even know how brilliant he is. You and I can build Quantum Leap, but he beats both of us at programming."

"I'm not sure, Sam. This road trip of his was a gem of a thought."

"Apples and oranges, but I think he was right. In order to really pursue Quantum Leap, we have to be sure that we'd go to the edge for each other."

"The edge of what?"

"That's the thing. Until we start transporting in the Accelerator Chamber we won't know. I don't want to put my trust in just anyone. I want to know that it's someone who has as much vested in the project as I do and," he had to stop for a moment, "and who is vested in me as a human being. I figured you were the right man even before Gooshie sent us on this voyage, but I've learned a lot over the last few days."

"About me?"

"Both of us, actually."

"Anything I should know about?"

Sam never understood why saying things was so difficult, but he wasn't ready to talk. He understood Al's hesitations a little better now. It was hard to admit things to yourself, let alone to someone else, even if that person was an honest friend. "Probably, but I'm not getting into it. It's not the right time."

That made perfect sense. "Yeah, I know the feeling. Just don't start doing my trick. Stay away from nightmares, Sam. They fuck with your head really bad."

The terror of Vietnam had been over for Al since 1973. Thirteen years later it was resurfacing and screwing with him big time. Sam wanted to tear the demons from Al's spirit, but there was no way for him to do it. "I can see that. I wish I could do something for you."

"What are you talking about? You do a lot." The snow was falling stronger and Al felt a chill through his body, but he wasn't sure if it was winter or memory. "When the dreams have me, Sam, sometimes I think I can't, won't get back on my own. Then somewhere in all that I sort of know I'll be okay if I just hold on."

"That sounds like how you must have existed back then." His breath shuddered.

"God, I hate this fucking trip."

"Me too, but then I don't. If you hadn't come with me, Katie would still be with Chuck. God knows what he would have done to her. Shit, look what he did to you."

Al didn't respond. He gazed into the woods. "Snow is beautiful out here, Sam."

"Winter out here is always beautiful."

It had to be five minutes before Al broke the wintry silence and said, "I hate this trip, but I'm glad we took it. Gooshie was right." He wanted to tell Sam what he felt in his heart, but Al Calavicci didn't say crap like that. It was enough that he admitted, "I know we're ready for this, Sam. No doubt."

The true depth of Al's words wasn't lost on Sam. It was a moment Sam promised he would never forget. He knew he had found another brother, not a replacement for Tom, but an addition to him. Al was blood now and that made Sam more proud than he had been the day he accepted the Noble Prize. "Let's go back inside. This is going to get worse."

"You talking about the weather or the trip?"

Sam roared and slapped Al on the back. "Move, Calavicci. It's snowing." They walked back toward the house feeling pretty good.

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Dinner ended - seemed like all they did was eat. Jason and Tom took care of the dishes while the adults made their way into the living room. Dave had a fire roaring in the fireplace and the drapes were opened onto a snowstorm of Indiana proportions. He looked at his guests and said, "I'm not sure you'll be going anywhere tomorrow, A.J. We're the last road to get plowed in the county."

A.J. stood staring out at the blizzard swirling around the camp. "I got to get into Ft. Wayne tomorrow. Chuck is being transferred to the Great Lakes PCF."

Thelma asked, "What's PCF?"

A.J. told her, "Pretrial Confinement Facility. We'll convene the trial at Great Lakes, too."

Al hated asking, but he had to. "You have the charges worked out?"

"He'll be doing serious time. If we get him on everything, which is not likely, he'll get life. If we get him on everything except the rape charge he could see 33 years and six months. Unfortunately, his abuse of Katie is the harder case and I don't think they'll get him on that. I'm hoping we get 31 years. That has potential."

Al looked at A.J. "With parole how long?"

"I hate this part. Maybe eight, 10 years."

Sam mumbled, "It's not enough."

Thelma stepped in. "No amount of time will be enough, but we have to look at other results here. Katie is safe and Al will heal from his wounds. Personally, I don't want to think about that man any more tonight or ever. I think we need to do something fun."

Al smiled at her, "Like shovel?"

She smiled back and it was a warm wonderful smile. "Dave, you have half a dozen guitars in this house. Go get a few of them and get the boys in here. It's time to sing."

The fire warmed the room and for hours, music rang through the house. Katie had a sweet voice with an attraction to Carly Simon songs. Her rendition of **_You're So Vain_** was teasingly sung to her brother who played the role to the hilt.

Everyone in the room took turns with three guitars going from hand to hand to hand. No one was allowed to back down and the songs went from sweet to sentimental, from blues to bawdy. Sam did his Elvis stage show complete with hip-swinging, guitar playing on **_Blue Suede Shoes_**.

Thelma was having a fine time. She poured some wine for A.J. who was already a little more than happy. He looked up at her with a huge smile and said, "Thank you, Thelma. If I weren't already married . . ."

She put the wine bottle down and started singing, "You made me love you. I didn't wanna do it. I didn't wanna do it." Everyone started laughing. She kept on, encouraged by the reaction. She was joined by Sam on the guitar. "I want some love that's true. Yes, I do, 'deed I do. You know I do." No one knew if it was the wine or just a side of Thelma they'd never seen before. She sat on A.J.'s lap and lightly patted his balding head while she sang. "Gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme what I cry for. You know you've got the brand of kisses that I'd die for. You know you made me love you."

A.J. scooped her up in his arms. "We'll see you all later!"

Comically defending Thelma's honor, Al rose. "Hey, that's Sam's mother!"

Thelma was gently returned to her feet and 12 shades of red blushed over her. She hid her face in her hands laughing all the while. "What got into me?" Sitting back down, she kept repeating, "Oh my, oh my, oh my."

A.J. looked over at Al. "I kind of liked it!" He started waving his arms. "Okay, I got one. Al, you'll remember this. Hand me a guitar." Jason gave his to A.J. who started in, "I took myself down to the Tally Ho Tavern to buy me a bottle of beer." Looking straight at Thelma he sang, "I sat me down by a tender young maiden whose eyes were as soft as her hair and as I was searching from bottle to bottle for something un-foolish to say," His gazed turned to Al, "that silver-tongued devil just slipped from the shadows and smiling he stole her away."

Thelma hid her face again. "I'm so embarrassed." But there was laughter in her voice.

A.J. winked at her. "I said Hey, little girl, don't you know Al's the devil? He's everything that I ain't. Hiding intentions of evil under the smile of a saint."

Al couldn't help but think those words were pretty close to the truth.

A.J. kept on going. "All he's good for is getting in trouble and shifting his share of the blame and some people swear he's my double and some even say we're the same,"

Al retaliated. "The same? In your dreams, Chegwidden!"

"But the silver-tongued devil's got nothing to lose and I'll only live 'till I die. We take our own chances and pay our own dues, the silver-tongued devil and I."

More wine and song kept the night filled with good sounds and memorable moments. Not the least of which was Al doing his best Janis Joplin impression. "Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz? My friends all drive Porsches. I must make amends."

Jason and Tom were too young to have heard the song before. They wanted to learn it so Tom ran for his tape recorder and the entire group had to suffer through it again much to Al's delight. "Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends. Oh, Lord won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz?"

Deb was laughing so hard she slid off the couch onto the floor. When it came her turn, she came up with a sad song she loved. "Many's the time I've been mistaken and many times confused. Yes, and often felt forsaken and certainly misused. Oh, but I'm alright, I'm alright. I'm just weary to my bones. Still, you don't expect to be bright and bon vivant so far away from home, so far away from home."

The song was familiar to Al, but he was in a VC prison when it came out. He'd heard the words on occasion, but never paid much attention. This night, the words were listened to for truly the first time and it was as if he'd ghost written them.

"I don't know a soul who's not been battered. I don't have a friend who feels at ease. I don't know a dream that's not been shattered or driven to its knees."

His heart started beating faster as he listened to Deb sing

"Still, when I think of the road we're traveling on I wonder what's gone wrong. I can't help but wonder what's gone wrong."

Why hadn't he paid attention to this song before? It sang out the diary of his existence.

"And I dreamed I was dying. I dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly and looking back down at me smiled reassuringly. And I dreamed I was flying and high up above my eyes could clearly see the Statue of Liberty sailing away to sea and I dreamed I was flying."

That's what he saw that day. The missile hit and America drifted away. The rush of air through the hole in the fuselage - it was a dream. The parachute floating him toward the ground - that was a dream. It was all a dream. He wanted to shake the song from his head.

Sam had been paying attention to Deb, but out of the corner of his eye he caught a move. Al's right hand clenched and relaxed time and time again. The words were too close to home and Sam didn't realize it until he noticed his friend's reaction. He knew Deb would be done soon and hoped Al could forget it in less time than it took Deb to sing it.

"It's all right. It's all right. You can't be forever blessed. Still, tomorrow's going to be another working day and I'm trying to get some rest. That's all I'm trying to get some rest."

Jason, who had been playing along with his mom, was the first to speak. "That's a cool song, Mom."

"Thanks, sweetie, I always liked it even if it was a little sad." There was a restless calm in the room, an odd sort of feeling that no one could figure out.

Pulling the guitar from Jason, Sam said, "One more!" He started a song from some musical he saw back in the 60s. "Gonna build a mountain from a little hill. Gonna build a mountain, least I hope we will. Gonna build a mountain, gonna build it high. I don't know how we're gonna do it. Only know we're gonna try."

Al smiled at the thought of their daydream. It was an obvious prelude to the next five years of their lives. It felt good and he wanted to feel good again.

"Gonna build a daydream from a little hope. Gonna push that day dream up a mountain slope. Gonna build a daydream, gonna see it through. Gonna build a mountain and a daydream, gonna make them both come true."

If he thought about it, the song was right on the mark. Quantum Leap would require them to build a mountain that would change the landscape of more than the New Mexico desert.

"If we build our mountain with a lot of care and take our daydream up the mountain, heaven will be waiting there." Sam looked directly into Al's eyes. "We'll take our daydream up the mountain and heaven will be waiting there."

Before the applause had a chance to start Al said, "Damn straight it will." The smile he sent to Sam was one of gratitude. It was the song he had to hear.

A.J. and Thelma could tell things needed to close. Both noticed the interchange between her son and the Admiral. Thelma told A.J. with a tilt of her head that she'd take care of things. "Sam and Katie used to love this little song when they were children. Sam, you play, All Through the Night." The guitar began and Thelma finished the night by telling them, "Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee all through the night."

It was the natural close to their evening and all were sent to their rooms. A.J. was offered Sam's bed since he would be staying in the infirmary again. The snow made the walk to the lodge very uninviting so he took them up on it. Thelma made the rounds and everyone was given a mother's blessing. Fifteen minutes later, all retreated into their rooms with happy memories of a wonderful evening.

Al changed into some running shorts and a tee shirt and was in bed before Sam got there. The doctor wanted to check the Admiral's health status. "I'm okay, Sam."

"Can I at least look at the back of your head?" Al turned so Sam was able to inspect the stitches. "Looking good. Once your hair grows back, you won't see the scar."

"Yeah, I figured that." He yawned and sighed. "You were lucky, kid. Growing up like this, I don't even think I can pretend to know what that must have been like. Your mom, your sister, your cousins, it's something else. I'm really glad you had this. You deserved it."

"You should have had this life, too."

"Nah, not me. I would have fucked it up." He took in a big breath. "I got to tell you, breathing deep still hurts. I hope A.J. gets Chuck on the rape charge. I'd like to see that ass bivouacked at the Charleston Brig till he keels over."

"Put it out of your mind for now. Try to get some sleep. I'll be right here."

"I really don't need a sitter, Sam."

It wasn't going to happen. Al would not be allowed to be alone. Sam placated the Admiral by saying, "Tomorrow night you can stay by yourself. Give me one more night."

"Do I have a choice?" Sam shook his head as he turned off the light. "Thought as much." And as the Waltons did for years, Al said, "Goodnight, Samboy."

At two o'clock, Sam was starting to doze off. The infirmary door opened and his mother came in. Very quietly he said, "Hi, Mom. What's up?"

She whispered, "Nothing, dear, but I think you need a good night's sleep yourself. Let me take a few hours."

It was appealing, however there were extenuating circumstances. He didn't want to break a trust, but he wanted someone to help him get through what was happening to his friend. "Mom, Al has some trouble sleeping. He was MIA for a long time and it wasn't easy for him. He gets these nightmares and they're pretty frightening."

"Oh, Sam, I know that. I've heard him the past two nights. You go get some rest." She physically nudged him out the door. Thelma took her place in the chair across the room. She was a mom. Sitting vigil through the night by a sick loved one was something she knew intimately. A half hour later, she could hear Sam snoring in the living room. He sounded like his father and she let a wisp of melancholy float over her. Her surviving son looked so much like his father and now she discovered he sounded like him too. Thoughts flew to past happy times where the entire family was alive and well, where Tom and Sam ran and played together and Katie tugged at her apron strings. However, Al was remembering a different world, one where violence and pain kept him prisoner.

Wrists were tied behind his back all the way up to his elbow. He hanged by the ropes wrapping his arms, feet unable to touch the ground. One shoulder already dislocated. A whip cracked across his back. He flinched, but no sounds. He wasn't going to let them hear his pain. Another stroke cut through his sun-burned skin. Then another and keeping silent got harder, but he didn't make a sound, a small victory, but that's the only kind he had. But the whips kept coming and the strokes got harder. The next battery twisted his body and his other shoulder blew out of the socket. The first whimper he gave them was a monumental failure in his eyes. They won again. They always won. The whimper got louder. The bamboo cane smashed against his ribs made his gasp against broken bones. A second stroke made him cry out. A third one elicited a wail of agony that brought Thelma to his side.

Sam came to the door and saw his mother taking care of things. He knew Al well enough to realize one person right now was enough. He backed out and waited behind the door, listening just in case Thelma needed medical help for his friend.

Without worrying about his bruises, Thelma pulled Al into her arms and held him. He hadn't awakened yet. "Hush, Al. You're home now. You're with us. No one will hurt you." Al's nightmares didn't like letting go of their victim. Just waking up didn't send them back to hell where they belonged. He fought the embrace, but a mother is stronger than a nightmare especially when she is protecting a child and for some reason, this Admiral felt like another son to her. "Let me take the dreams, Al. Let me help."

Coming back to reality he saw what happened and he was even more embarrassed than he ever thought he could be. "I'm sorry, Thelma." He tried to push her away, but she wouldn't hear of it. "Really, I'm fine."

Gently rocking, she eased up on her embrace, but still let him feel the warmth of someone who cared for him. "I know you are. I just want to hold onto you for a minute, okay? You scared me a little and I need to calm down." His psyche was so fragile at that moment, that he believed her. If she needed to hold him, then he would help her out. It was all a sham, though. Thelma wanted Al to find a safe place and nothing should feel safer than being held by a mother, even if she was barely old enough to hold that position. Rapid, worried breaths evened out a bit and she felt his body relax. "That's better. You don't want to make those bruises any worse." She let him lay back in the bed. She brushed his hair back from his forehead. "Sam said you were MIA for six years and that you've been having bad dreams."

He closed his eyes and turned his face away from the kind woman. "Sam talks too much."

Laughing just a little, Thelma had to admit, "Well, sometimes he does. That's true, but I have a feeling you don't talk enough. I can't imagine how terrible it was for you." She put her hand on his shoulder and tenderly touched his sweat soaked tee-shirt. "We have to get you dry clothes." The other side of the room held supplies and she found a hospital gown. "This will do." When she got back to Al's bedside she touched the damp garment and said, "Let me get that off you."

Vulnerability was something the Admiral rarely felt, but he truly felt exposed and helpless. All those years putting up with the torture and the ugliness, all those moments when he prayed someone would hold him, all those years when no one was there - and now this woman, this mom wanted to help. He hated feeling weak, but there was something comforting in letting her be a mom and pretending for a few seconds that someone cared. Trouble was, he was an Admiral, a man in control, a man who commanded and made split second decisions effecting hundreds of lives. He didn't need help taking off a tee-shirt. Anyhow, she wasn't going to see the scars on his back. They were hideous and still visible over ten years after the last whip split his skin. "I can take care of it, Thelma. I'm fine."

Mothers turn a deaf ear when they have a mission and Thelma's mission was to keep Al from getting cold. "I know you're fine." She pulled his shirt up and started working it over his head. "But I'm more stubborn than my son."

"That's saying a lot."

His face was hidden by his shirt, but Thelma smiled at the wisecrack. It showed he was starting to return to some sense of calm. The shirt came off and in the dim light Thelma Beckett saw something she never imagined seeing in her life. Al's body was covered in scars. She almost started crying. Her gentle hand reached out to touch the thickest of the ridges, a remnant that was never going to disappear no matter how much time passed. "You poor boy. Look what they did to you. I'm so sorry."

Pulling back, he didn't want her to touch him. "It's okay."

"Oh, sweetheart, it will never be okay." She began massaging a ridge of angry red tissue. "What happened here?"

He hated people touching his scars. It was one reason he had trouble in his marriages. He didn't tell any of his wives what happened and his relationships fizzled because he wouldn't talk. "It's just a burn, that's all." That was all he was going to offer.

"They burned you?"

The memories were too close and he never told anyone the stories of his time there. "It's okay, Thelma." He took the gown from her hands. "I don't talk about it."

She helped him get the gown on. The massage continued through the cotton gown and he had to admit, it felt good, not so much physically, but his heart felt a tinge of calm that seemed incredibly foreign, but good. "Al, I am so glad you came home alive, so very glad." She shed a tear that fell onto his hand.

A tear for him? He wasn't sure what to do or say. "I wish your son Tom came home instead of me. He had something to come home to." The words escaped, but he was surprised as hell that they did. Somehow, he kept talking. "He's the one who had a life and a family waiting for him. I should have died there, not him."

"What happened to Tom was terrible for all of us, especially Sam. I'm awfully happy you came home and very sad Tom didn't, but those two things have nothing to do with each other. You can't exchange a life for a life, Al. Each person is precious and has his own work to do according to God's plan."

"So God planned for me to come home?"

"I think so."

"Come home to what?" The abandonment of his soul was overpowering his reason. "My mother? She walked out on us. My father died. My sister died because I didn't get to her in time. My wife thought I was dead. If God planned for me to come home then He planned for Beth to desert me. Why would He have me come home to nothing? Isn't that a little cruel?"

"You piloted a spaceship around the moon. You saved your crew's lives. If they had a different pilot, they might have died, all of them. You were there on purpose. They needed you." She continued to softly rub his back, making a point to massage the thickest scars. "Then there's Sam. No one in our family could do for him what you're doing. In a million years, no one else on earth could come near to understanding his dreams and then go about making sure he had the chance to make them come true. God planned for you to be here for Sam." The events of the previous day brought tears to her eyes again. "And Katie. What would she have done without you? We could have lost Katie, too."

None of what she said made sense. All he felt at that moment was the pain of a life lived alone and unwanted. His place in the world was to endure the pain of others and somehow get through it all, but there comes a time when the village sin eater accepts fate and realizes his place as the one who takes on the offenses of those around him so their souls can be pure as his becomes more stained and fetid.

So be it, but instead of standing strong and accepting his destiny as usual, the Admiral started crying, something he hadn't done since 1953 and the aide at the mental hospital coldly told him Trudy died. His fingers curled into fists. His head and arms curled into his body and he closed up against waves of emotional anguish. Thelma held him and rocked slowly while she sang a song Al heard earlier. "Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee all through the night. Guardian angels God will send thee all through the night. Soft the drowsy hours are creeping, hill and dale in slumber sleeping. I my loving vigil keeping all through the night." This woman was only 17 years older than he was, but she gave him a special gift. For a few seconds he could pretend he had a mother who loved and cared for him. Her sweet voice continued, "o'er thy spirit gently stealing visions of delight revealing breathes a pure and holy feeling all through the night."

The song was always a favorite of Sam's and from the hallway just outside the infirmary he listened to his mother sing. He would not disrupt the much-needed release of pain and no one better understood the power of a loving parent like Thelma Beckett.

Sam stood by unseen and began to understand why those few days earlier Al could not approach the Wall with him. The immensity of it was more than he could tolerate. For the first time Sam was seeing just how privileged his life truly was. He could look back and find love, care, peace, family, warmth, health and kindness. When Al looked back he found desertion, loneliness, cold, fear, hunger, hurt and evil. There was much each man had to teach the other and it all began with creating trust, being the very best of friends. Sam whispered to the gods, "Thank you, Gooshie. You were right."

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_AUTHOR'S NOTE: All rights to this story are reserved. Neither the whole nor parts (with exception of short excerpts for review purposes) may be published elsewhere without written permission from the author. Thank you._

**You Made Me Love You** © James Monaco/Joseph McCarthy

**The Silver-Tongued Devil and I** © Kris Kristofferson

**Mercedes Benz** © Janis Joplin, Michael McClure, and Bob Neuwirth

**American Tune **© Paul Simon

**Gonna Build a Mountain **© Leslie Bricusse and Anthony Newley

**All Through the Night **© Sir Harold Boulton


	9. Day Seven Indiana Snow

Road Trip - A Look before the Leap

The author thanks Bellasarius Productions, Universal Studios and any other creative entities responsible for Quantum Leap.

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**Day Seven - Indiana Snow**

Twelve inches of snow greeted the morning. Almost everyone was outside shoveling a path to the lodge and the garage where there was a snowplow available to help A.J. get to Ft. Wayne. Al wasn't allowed to help, so he sat inside by the window watching, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. Occasionally Sam or A.J. or Jason or someone would catch his eye and he'd nod, pretending to be happy to be away from the work. In truth, he wanted to be there, a part of the event rather than a spectator.

Thelma came into the living room wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. "Looks like they're having a good time."

"They can continue to do so. It's nice and warm in here."

Thelma sat across from him on the couch. "How are you doing this morning?"

He had total recall of his meltdown and it humiliated him. Shaking his head, he apologized. "I'm sorry. I have no clue what got into me last night. I don't . . ." he fumbled for the words, "I . . . I don't cry."

"You don't? Why not?"

"Doesn't do any good. Won't change anything. Things aren't any different." He smiled at the only living human being to witness his tears. "I could go on."

"You're so much like Sam."

That was laughable and he did just that. "Me? Like Sam? I don't think so. He's much more put together than I am."

"Both of you tilt at windmills." She patted the couch. "Come sit here."

Thelma was treating him like her child and it added to his embarrassment, but he crossed the room and sat there as instructed. She took his hand and he smiled again as he told her, "Thelma, I'm not a kid, anymore. I don't need to be fussed over."

"Nonsense. Of course you need fussing over." She held his hand tighter. "There's so much you need to let go of, Al. Not forget. Lord knows you could never forget what happened and it's not a good idea to forget anyhow. I was thinking about Tom a lot after last night. From what we know, he was killed immediately. He probably didn't even see it coming. I wish he had come home, but if the war had to take him, I'm glad that's the way it did."

Al heard her starting to sniffle a bit, tears for her son. He didn't know what to say but he tried. "I guess that's not much consolation though."

"But it is. No one should bear the kinds of scars you bear. You suffered such evil for so long. I wouldn't want that for Tom. Seeing what they did . . ." and her tears began. "And you don't need an old lady crying on your shoulder."

"I wish you hadn't seen the scars. I don't know how you managed to touch them. They're ugly."

"They're terribly ugly, but they aren't you. Don't get confused, Al. Ugly things have happened to you in your life, but you are strong and handsome, good, smart, and caring. Despite all the horrible things you've lived with, you stayed pure in your heart."

Al wasn't buying it. It was almost funny to him. "You sure you're talking about me?"

"I know I am. I owe you, Albert Calavicci. You have saved my children, both of them. To me, you will always be a hero for things that have nothing to do with war or sailing into space. Your heroism comes from deep inside you and you can try to deny that it's there, but those of us who love you know the truth. Someday, if you're lucky, you'll know it too."

The truth was hard to hear. It meant he had a new kind of responsibility. "I don't want to be anyone's hero. I'm sorry. I don't mean to be disrespectful, but heroes are cut from other cloth. I'm an orphaned slum kid who knew how to pick pockets before knowing how to ride a bicycle. That's all. Everything else is just stuff that got thrown at me. The only thing I did was survive."

Thelma wasn't going to change his mind in their few minutes of conversation. "Someday, dear, you'll know better. Just let me know when you finally understand the truth. It will make me very happy, okay?"

There was nothing in his head to say. She was wrong, but somehow she believed what she told him. It was all gibberish as far as he was concerned. His tender feelings for Thelma were being pushed aside by his own twisted perception of his place in the world. He didn't like hearing her words. They should have been comforting. They were meant to be comforting. Thelma was a lovely woman and there was no doubt she cared for him, but he couldn't hear her words right now. They hurt almost as much as the nightmares.

The open room started closing in and in minutes his head would be somewhere other than Indiana. It couldn't happen again with Thelma. His pride was getting in the way. No one was supposed to know about his pain. It was bad enough Sam and A.J. knew, but guys were different. They didn't talk about stuff. Now Thelma knew. She acted like a mother. He didn't comprehend the concept well and now that he was getting a taste of it, it felt odd and off. It was something he always wanted, but it felt wrong. He didn't need mothering. After decades of mistrust, he didn't want any mother or mothering. The muscles in his back tensed and he had to get away. Running away worked in the past. Time to try it again.

"I think I'm going to see how the work is going outside. They need some supervision, don't you think?" He was off the couch even before he finished his sentence. Before Thelma had a chance to say anything, his coat was in his hands and before it was on his back, he was out the door in the cold wet of the morning. The chill felt good. No way he could mistake this snowy place for Vietnam. This was snow and cold and ice and he wanted to run. Before he heard a thousand reasons not to from half a dozen people, he took off.

Sam turned to see the Admiral disappearing, darting into the woods where it would be too easy to get lost. He stuck the shovel in the snow and took off to catch up with his friend. The trees were thick and Sam followed the trail Al left in his wake. Finally, he found his friend, but he stood back. The Admiral was out of breath from the run and the ache in his body. His hands rested on his knees and he panted. Sam still let Al stand alone because he didn't know what to say, but that didn't matter when Al dropped to his knees.

Snow is a terrific muffler of sound and Sam didn't want to startle the Admiral. From twenty yards away he called out, "Al, you okay?"

The Admiral didn't turn, but his head slowly nodded. Running shouldn't have been hard, but Al wasn't done healing yet and he felt it. His hands tightened over his gut trying to keep the aches from growing into real pain. It seemed to work. Sam saw the movement and concern superseded anything else. He got to Al's side as quick as the foot deep drifts allowed. The Admiral held a hand up to halt any contact. "Don't."

"Let's go back to the house."

Before the question was completed, the answer popped out. "No." Finally looking at his friend, Al repeated, "No, not yet." He rose and took a few more steps and leaned his back against a tree. "Sam, don't even start."

"I wasn't going to."

He looked off into the deep woods. "Tell me something. Why do we want Quantum Leap? And I don't mean advancing science. We could do that a million other ways, all a lot easier and cheaper. Why go back and change personal histories?"

"To make someone's life better, safer. Give a person a better chance."

"Isn't that arrogant? I mean, who are we to determine how someone's life can be improved? It's not like I have a lot of experience with making my life better."

Sam spoke quietly to the Admiral. The words were thinly veiled, but the Al was too unfocused to realize Sam's intention. "I think we can help someone believe in his self worth, (11:35:02 PM)believe he is loved and deserves to be. Sometimes people have a hard time believing that it's okay to have others love them, help them, even protect them." The science would enable them to do so much, but leaping wasn't what Sam was going to talk about. "Quantum Leap can give second chances so a man can understand that the present and future are what counts." (11:37:42 PM)

The Admiral wasn't convinced, but he wanted to be. Despondently, he started to realize Sam was talking about him. It was time to say something, something he'd never said before, but Sam was his friend and someone had to hear him. "When I think about the future, when I look forward, it's exciting and I think I might be doing something, finally be part of something that could have lasting value." He forced himself to look into his Sam's eyes. It was hard and took all the courage he could find. "But when I look back all I see are these chains trying to keep me down." He gulped in air as if it were water for a thirsty man. "** (11:46:43 PM)**Trouble is, every time I fuck up, I look back to figure out why I fucked up and all I see are those chains getting bigger and heavier." With all the daring his soul could muster he stood directly in front of Sam, his eyes cold and furious. "Right now everything is exploding into nightmares and meltdowns. ** (11:56:55 **Sometimes it hurts so bad that I don't know how I'll get through it. For some stupid reason, I always seem to believe I will, that I'll find the right path." The anger softened a little. "But I never can figure out where the path was in the first place or how I got off it."

Sam listened and said, "I lose the path a lot of the times too. Usually, you point me in the right direction. I tell you what, when I'm lost, I'll let you guide me. When you think you might be lost, maybe I can help you."

"You want to tie yourself to me like that? This is going to be a long trip."

Sam smiled a little, "Like it hasn't been already." Tears welled in his eyes.

The Admiral smiled a little, too. "First thing, Sam, you got to stop with the tears. You cry like a little girl."

A thumb and forefinger wiped the wet from his eyes. "Yeah, well. Some things are worth crying over. You're on that list for me."

Enough talking had been done. The Admiral's old sarcasm was back. "Oh, yippee." Somehow, though, Al felt calm, calmer than he had been in days, maybe even weeks. "I guess this talking crap might do some good. Knowing you, there's no turning back for me now, is there."

"Well, Dad always told us that when God closes one door, he opens another."

"Yeah, but it's the fucking hallways that get you into trouble, kid, those fucking hallways."

Sam didn't expect that answer and it took him off guard. He laughed so loud snow dropped from a branch above him dropping a wet glop of the stuff right on his head. Al's high-pitched laugh made Sam laugh even more.

The Admiral helped Sam brush the snow off his back. "Now it's time to go back to the house."

They walked back in silence and when they arrived at the house, Thelma was on the porch watching everyone still trying to clear a path. Sam retrieved his shovel from the snow bank where he left it. Al started toward Thelma, but he stopped at the bottom of the steps. He looked at Thelma with a fiendish look in his eyes. She smiled back. "What are you up to, Al?"

His actions spoke louder than his words could at that moment. Reaching down, he grabbed a huge handful of snow and packed it. The former college baseball pitcher used his winning style to heave the snowball at Sam. It smacked its target right on the shoulder. Sam spun around and saw Al and his mother pointing and laughing.

"Got you, Beckett!"

The war was on. In seconds no one was shoveling. Snowballs were being thrown at everyone and even Thelma wasn't left out. Sam made a small sphere to toss at her. She laughed at the ball of snow decorating the front of her coat. "Samuel John Beckett, you will be punished for this!" Suddenly, Thelma became a target and it seemed like hundreds of the little white playthings came her way.

Always an officer and a gentleman, Al stepped in to protect her from the onslaught. His back was to the group when someone tossed a snowball that was a bit bigger and heavier. It hit the bruise over his kidney and his face screwed up in pain, but only Thelma saw what happened. With an attempt at a smile he said, "Damn, that hurt."

Thelma waved her hands at the rest of the winter warriors. "Go back to shoveling. A.J. has to get out of here sometime this century." They all obeyed without knowing why she stopped them. She gently led Al into the house. "Should I call Sam?"

"No, no, no. It just stung a little more than I thought it should. I guess I'm not as far along as I hoped I was." He hung up his coat. "I think I'm going to change. I got a little wet out there."

"Why don't you use the Jacuzzi again?"

"Ah, Thelma Beckett, you are a wise woman." He started toward the infirmary, but halfway there he stopped and looked at his hostess. "You know earlier, you wanted me to let you know when I understood the truth. I don't know if I will ever know the truth about who I am, what I am. I'm not even sure I want to know, but if it happens, I'll be sure to call you first. I promise."

"Thank you, Al. It's nice to know you have hope." She hung her wet scarf on the coat hook in the hall. "Now go jump in that Jacuzzi before the rest of them want time in it."

He winked at her, "You're a wicked woman, Thelma Beckett. I like wicked women."

She winked back. "So I've heard tell."

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Lunchtime came and went. Sam and Al were in the living room watching the sun trying to peek through the gray snow clouds. Al had to bring it up. "We got to be back on the road. We've been out of DC a week already."

"I was thinking about that last night. I'm not sure we have time to get to Chicago and then back to Washington."

"Now, I was thinking about that. We could do it if we drove to Chi and flew back. Might be better for me anyhow not to be bouncing in a car for days on end. This snow is going to keep us here another day at least."

Sam knew that this trip was not the most entertaining or relaxing experience for either of them, but at least he had the comfort of family and a home he was familiar with. "I'm sorry, Al. This hasn't been what we hoped it would be."

There was no denying Sam's words. The measles he caught at age 46 had more entertainment value. "Between two nights in the hospital and the nightmares it's been a joy."

The week had gone by too fast and furious. Chuck's arrest was a nightmare itself, but one that seemed weeks, if not months old. Sam offered a plan. "How about we stay here another day or so and then we drive Katie back to Great Lakes. We can get a Navy transport to fly us back a day before the committee meets again. Remember the committee?"

"How can I forget? We need to do some work on the project. First, we have been negligent in calling Janet. She needed to hear from us almost daily."

"I think she may be aware that we've had other issues to deal with."

"Right, even more reason to call her and let her know we are still capable of pulling this off. Damn, why didn't I think of this before? We have to call today. Can we use Dave's office?"

"Yeah, I'm sure we can."

"Go ask." He started toward the infirmary. "I got her private number in my book."

Sam took a sip of his beer. "I bet."

As he walked into the kitchen he laughed at his friend. "Smart ass."

He was just out of the room when Jason and Tom came in from the cold looking pretty dejected. They looked at their cousin Sam and sighed. Jason told him, "There's no way we could even start to look for the Admiral's ribbons. The water is way too cold and we don't even know where Chuck threw them in."

Tom added. "Chuck could have thrown them anywhere. I don't think we'll ever get them."

Sam knew it was a pipe dream, but he had asked the boys to see if there might be a way to retrieve the ribbons that declared Al's devotion to his country. "Thanks, I appreciate you trying."

Tom looked terribly sad, "I'm sorry. He shouldn't have to lose those. That stinks."

The description was pretty accurate. "Yeah, it does stink. Listen, don't let him know I asked you to look. He doesn't need to know."

Five minutes later Sam and Al were in the office and on the phone with Senator Summerfield. It was decided that Al would do the talking since he knew the Senator well enough to call her Janet. "I'm fine. The guy is huge and I'm not so huge so it was pretty obvious he was going to beat the crap out of me, but Sam's a doctor and they have a pretty complete infirmary here."

He waited as she spoke. "When the news here broke the story, they didn't know if you were okay or not. At first I thought he'd killed you."

"Nowhere near killed me. I was my crabby self even before the cops arrived."

Janet was worried for her friend, but as head of the committee, she had 43 billion dollars to consider. "Aside from being concerned about you, Quantum Leap would have been scrapped. You know that don't you?"

"There would be no reason to do that even if I did something that stupid. The project centers on Dr. Beckett, not me."

"But the money centers on you. I think the Committee is going to want to review you medical records on this incident, Al. They want to know you'll be there for the duration."

He looked at Sam and whispered, "They want my medical records from this." His attention returned to the telephone conversation. "Come on, Janet. Are they that uptight? I'm fine. You know me. If I had a dime for every time someone thought I should be dead, I'd be able to fund Quantum Leap on my own."

She had to laugh and admit, "Probably so, but they're going to demand it and I support that decision. Get them to me soon and we might still be able to make the decision next week."

Al looked at Sam whispering again. "Cross your fingers." The opening to ask about O'Reilly just presented itself. "You think you can get unanimity with O'Reilly? He's not my biggest fan."

Janet knew exactly what Al was really saying. "I could tell. And yes, Al, he will be replaced on the committee by the end of today. It's done."

"Janet, if you weren't married and I hadn't vowed never to marry again, I'd propose to you right now."

"You are something else, Al. Send me your documents as soon as you can. We'll do this. I promise I will do my best."

"I'm depending on you, Janet." They said their good-byes and Al thought a few moments. "I still think we got it, but if we don't, it's because they don't think I'm healthy enough to support you. I'm sorry, Sam."

It's not your fault, Al, and I think we'll get it. Your record shows you got every test under the sun and everything is fine."

"I hope so, Sam. I hope so." He started out of the office, but Sam didn't move. "You coming?"

"Not yet. I want to call a friend of mine. Haven't talked to him in years. I'll be out in a minute." Al left Sam alone and the physicist dialed the number he memorized. He waited until the receiver was lifted on the other end. "Hello, this is Sam Beckett. Sorry to call you, but I have a situation here and I'd like your help, if possible."

Out in the living room, Al was engaged in the telling of tales. Jason and Tom were a fresh audience and the stories of piloting for NASA were some of the Admiral's fondest memories and he had a practiced storyteller's skill in relating the accounts.

Sam found the boys literally at Al's feet and he ran to find a camera. It was a priceless moment and he wanted a record of it for Jason's and Tom's sakes. He was glad these two young men had Al in their lives now. They would have a hero to look up to, a real life, flesh and blood human being, a hero they'd seen in action. It had to be photographed.

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_AUTHOR'S NOTE: All rights to this story are reserved. Neither the whole nor parts (with exception of short excerpts for review purposes) may be published elsewhere without written permission from the author. Thank you._


	10. Day Eight Going Home

Road Trip - A Look before the Leap

The author thanks Bellasarius Productions, Universal Studios and any other creative entities responsible for Quantum Leap.

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Day Eight - Going Home 

The sun was bright and the roads mostly cleared off. Sam wanted to get off the campgrounds. He made the rounds and everyone said okay. Half an hour later, Sam, Thelma, Katie and Al were in the car making their way to Elk Ridge to see the farm. It was about an hour drive. Yesterday's snow was gone from the roads, but the white frosting on the winter fields made the scenery postcard perfect.

Sam anxiously asked Thelma, "Mom, when was the last time you saw the house?"

"It's been years, Sam. I don't want you to get your hopes up, son. Last I heard the place was up for sale again."

"I know, Mom. I just want to see it again. Maybe we could visit the high school. I'd love to see my old teachers." Sam turned off the main highway onto another side road. "I can't wait."

Al looked out at the fields, even though covered in snow, to his unpracticed eye appeared neglected. The fences were in bad shape as though no one cared for years. His instincts, which he thought were pretty good, were telling him that the house wasn't going to be in any condition for Sam to find pleasant memories. "The farm looks deserted, Sam. Why don't we just go to the high school? We can play Noble Prize winner and Astronaut."

"We're almost at the house." He made a left turn and in the distance the old farmhouse stood against the bright blue sky. Sam stopped the car out by the road since the drive to the house hadn't been plowed. Made sense that it hadn't. No one lived here now.

Thelma looked at her home, the building where she raised three children, lived with the love of her life, and watched disappear like so many other family farms. The snow was deep and she found her excuse. "I don't want to walk in all that snow, Sam. I'll wait in the car."

No one considered the snow would make things hard. Katie offered to stay behind with her mom, but Thelma wouldn't have it. So, Sam and Katie walked in front of Al, stamping down a path so that the still healing Admiral wouldn't have to work too hard to make the 100 yards to the door.

The closer the brother and sister got to the house, the more melancholy they became. The house was not only deserted, but it was abandoned and falling apart. Most of the windows were either broken out or cracked. The paint was cracked and peeling off, something their father would have never allowed. The abandoned house wasn't scary. It was simply sad.

This trip was supposed to make her feel at home, but it just didn't. "Sam, it's terrible. This just can't be our house."

The surviving son climbed the steps to the front door and pulled the handle. Thankfully, it was locked and the desolation of the interior would remain unseen. He returned to Katie's and Al's sides and pointed to a second story window near the corner of the house. "That was my room until I went to college. Katie was over there," he pointed to the other end, "After Tom left for the Navy."

"I moved back to my old room after Tommy died. I couldn't stay there." She put her hand on the stair railing. "Oh Sam, this may not have been a good idea." The pain of Tom's death, her leaving this blissful place for a life of hell with Chuck, her father's death, all of those were preying on her. She thought it would be fun to see it, but the deserted house was too symbolic of how things in her life had soured. "I'm going back to the car."

Al saw the pain in these kind hearts. Their home was gone. The link to their flawless childhood was desecrated. Houses never really mattered to him except for one and strangers occupied that when he got home from hell. He long ago decided there was too much fuss made over places. As Katie trudged back up the path they made Al asked, "Sam, you want to go?"

"Not yet. I want to see the barn." He looked back at the Admiral. "You want to go back to the car? I'll meet you there in a few minutes."

"I'll go with you. Never saw a barn close-up. We didn't have many in Manhattan."

Sam appreciated the opportunity to smile. "Come on, city boy. Let me show you where real Americans worked."

Again, Sam walked first plowing his way through the snow so that Al had an easy hike. The barn door was opened partially, enough for both men to easily enter. The inside was lit by sunlight coming in through a few holes in the roof and broken shutters all around. "The hours I spent in here, Al, I can't even begin to count them. I used to hate it." His hand found an old rake. "I should have been here. I could have helped Dad with the place."

"Did he want you to be here?"

John Beckett wanted all his children to get a college education and be free to choose a life they wanted. He was well aware that his youngest son was destined for something other than dairy farming. "Dad wanted me to go to school, but this," he pointed to the shell around him, "This is just not how it should be."

Looking at the vestige of the past, Al started thinking out loud. "Maybe it is, Sam. You weren't going to be a dairy farmer. Everyone here knew that."

"There's nothing wrong about being a dairy farmer."

"I didn't say there was. It's a good life, a hard one too. It makes for raising good kids. But when your dad died, what were his wishes about the place?"

The will asked that the farm be sold with all assets going to Thelma. Then Thelma was to give each surviving child $5,000 to use for their education. "That money came in handy. I got to go to Egypt on a dig with that money."

"Your father knew full well you weren't a farmer, Sam. His choice for you was to make history with your science. You're doing that."

"But if I were home, maybe he wouldn't have died. Maybe I could have been there and kept him alive until he got to the hospital."

"And if I had taken off fifteen seconds later, that missile wouldn't have hit my plane. The 'what if' game is a bad one to play. Makes you second-guess your life too much."

Sam's tears weren't easy to hide. "He died in here, Al. No one knew he had the heart attack. He lay on the floor here dying and no one was here to help him. He didn't deserve to die alone like that. I should have been here. I could have kept him alive."

Al understood what it was like to lose a beloved parent and, like Sam, he wasn't there when his father died. The adults in his world didn't even think it appropriate for him to attend the wake and funeral. His father was just gone. "You told me he had a massive coronary, right?" Sam nodded. "How far away is the nearest hospital that could help him?"

"In Ft. Wayne, just over an hour away."

"If you were here right at the second he got sick and you put him in the car and got to Ft. Wayne in record time, would he have survived?"

Sam walked farther away looking away from Al. "I've told myself that for years, Al, but if I had been here, he might not have been stressed to the point where he had the attack at all. Maybe I would have seen symptoms and gotten him to the doctor. He might still be alive."

Al moved to stand right behind Sam and spoke softly. "All of that might have been possible, but thinking like that is only a game. There's no way to know what would have happened, but there are a few things you can be sure of. Your father loved you. He understood how special you are and knew you would never be a dairy farmer. And I'm projecting here, but from what I've heard about the guy, he doesn't want you mucking up his memory with all this 'if only' crap. Never met the man, but I think he must have been one terrific guy. I can see that in a lot of ways." He faced Sam, looking up into the sad face. "I met your mom. She's one hell of a woman. She wouldn't have settled for an ordinary guy. Your dad had to be something else. Then there's Katie. That one has a wild streak that wants to know more and more and I think your dad had a big part in that too. Then I look at you." He paused before letting his friend hear, "If I were half the man you are, I'd be a hell of a lot happier. You are your father. You just make a living in a different way." Al walked around the barn. "This place was special at one time, but it's not the walls that made it special. It's the love you felt here that makes it important. Chances are you still feel all that love, right?" The scientist agreed. "Right. Take that with you and you'll always have this home."

Sam's tears ran without a sound coming from him. "I miss him, Al."

"I know, kid. I know." The older man had no idea if he was doing it right, but he put his arms around the Noble Prize winning physicist who at the moment looked like a child of ten. "I know." It seemed to be working.

Sam accepted the embrace, feeling like his father was reaching out one last time, using the Admiral to hold him in this place where he spent so much time. For a flash of a second, his father's arms comforted him and then that image was gone. Here was another older man willing to let him feel child-like and still respect his skills and achievements. John Beckett left his son in good hands. Finally he pulled away from Al. "Sorry."

"For what?" He started toward the door. "It's getting cold. You want a minute to say good-bye?"

Sam surveyed the barn. "I don't think so. There's nothing here to say good-bye to."

The two men walked back to the car. Conversation was minimal, each deep into his own recollections. Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to come. Then again, maybe it was.

The drive home was a bit subdued. No one really wanted to talk about how horrible seeing the old place was, but hearts sagged inside them all including Al. He understood the desolation of dreams that exploded.

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Their dinner conversation revolved around nothing of importance. It was the requisite quiet after days filled with storms and everyone seemed to need to have the paced slowed down a bit. Dave and the boys drove into town for a youth meeting at church leaving Sam and Al at home with the ladies. They made their way into the living room with Sam carrying a tray with mugs and a carafe of coffee. Katie followed behind with a brand new apple pie just out of the oven about half an hour.

The coffee and pie got passed around and no one knew exactly what to talk about. Deb asked about the farm and four sets of shoulders wilted. Thelma spoke up, "Well, I didn't get out of the car. There was so much snow."

Sam slipped some pie into his mouth and mumbled, "It looks terrible. I wish I had the money to buy it and get it up and running again."

Thelma reacted strongly. "Samuel John Beckett, don't you dare think about buying back that farm. Places like ours are outdated now. The conglomerates would just eat you up."

"Your mother is right, Sam." Al had to agree. "Small farms like yours just don't cut it any more. It's a shame. There is something compelling about country life. Even with the snow storms, there's a gentleness out here that is really appealing." He sipped at his coffee and smiled a little. "And I never thought I'd hear words like that coming from my mouth. I am a city boy."

No one looked up. They all found fascination in the coffee mugs and their own thoughts, but the quiet was disquieting. Each wanted to break the silence, but no one could come up with a reason. Al's eyes closed and his face twisted with a short pain. Deb noticed the movement and asked, "Your head hurting?"

Sam sat bolt straight and anxious, almost grateful for something else to think about. "What's wrong, Al?"

They were overreacting. Of course, he hurt. It had only been five days and the jerk did a number on him. "It's nothing. Things still ache a bit. Chuckie's a big guy. Me - not so much."

The scientist turned into a doctor. "Let's get you back into bed."

"Sam, it's only seven thirty. I'm fine. Please relax."

The worried friend sat back in the chair. "Sorry. This was supposed to be a vacation for you. Didn't end up one."

"Not sure you're having the vacation of your dreams either."

Sam stared into Al's eyes. "Are you kidding? My sister is safe from that maniac. I couldn't ask for anything better to happen except maybe that it didn't take you getting hurt to do it."

Thelma started crying and this time, Al put his arm around her shoulders. "Hey, what's this for? Everyone is fine. You should be smiling and happy."

"It's been a very confusing few days. Our world is turning upside down and it just hurts to see it falling apart."

He smiled at her, "But it's not falling apart. It's just changing. To quote an old professor of mine, 'Change is an inevitable constant.' If things didn't change, then there'd be no reason to be alive." Her tears tapered off. "Seems to me that there are going to be some really great changes happening pretty soon."

"I'm not much for change, especially great changes. I'm a creature of habit, Al." Tears still slipped down her face. "I don't know. Maybe seeing the farm wasn't such a good idea. I knew it was going to be deserted, but it looked so broken

The Admiral kept his arm around the tender woman. "You know, I never really got attached to places. Never had one worth getting attached to. Your home with John and your kids is still magnificent." His free hand pointed across the room at two of the three remaining Beckett children. "There's the proof. They're the legacy. The farm isn't."

Deb smiled and had to agree. "And now that legacy includes the Italian branch of the family. Somehow, I know God meant for you to meet Sam and become a member of our family. That kind of a gift is planned well in advance."

Throwing his head back, he had to laugh. "Yeah, that's me - a gift from God." Pulling his arm back, he reached for his apple pie.

Sam got antsy. "Okay, enough with this stuff. We're all wonderful. We're all gifts from God." Grabbing for his pie, he asked Katie, "Got more ice cream?"

Katie took the plate from Sam. "I'll get it for you." Taking the half empty dish, she left the room looking as dejected as her brother and mother.

The mood had to flip soon. They all knew it. The television sat in the corner. Precariously stacked nearby stood half a dozen video tapes. Thelma was the first to suggest, "Let's watch a movie. What do you have there, Deb?"

"Oh, it's mostly films the boys like." She walked to the pile and began reading off titles. "Let's see we have **Children of the Corn,** but that's scary and I don't like scary movies. Here we have **This is Spinal Tap**." She pulled one out and held it to her chest with both hands. "This one is mine - **An Officer and a Gentleman.**"

Thelma smiled at Al, "Oh, we have our own right here."

Scoffing at the comment, Al said, "An officer yes, but there are those who would debate the 'gentleman' part." He looked over at Sam hoping his young friend would rise to the bait and start to lose his dark mantle.

Sam wasn't listening. His father's death and Katie's situation with Chuck beat him down. How could he be so smart and so stupid at the same time? It had to be selfishness. He was the center of the universe, at least he'd been told that in a variety of ways from all sorts of people for too many years. His need to be the center of attention was the reason everything went wrong in his family. At least it felt like his existence was the be all and end all of everyone else's existence. The conceit behind that thought shamed him and if he voiced those feelings, no one would think it was so. He let out a sigh. It was too confusing for a man whose education skipped over psychology as if it was the black plague of the university system.

Deb continued to call out titles. When she got to **Raiders of the Lost Ark**, Al stopped her, "That's it! **Raiders!** I tried to get Dr. Dr. Dr. Dr. . . ." he counted on his fingers and continued, "Dr. Dr. Beckett over there to go see it, but he wouldn't. It's a great movie, Sam."

Offhandedly he muttered, "Al, the science is incredibly faulty."

"It's a fantasy film. Who cares? I mean, do you think Dorothy Gale really took the afternoon tornado to Oz? It's all make believe and this one is good."

Thelma saw that her son was deeply disturbed. She went to him and took his face in her hands. "You have to know that you are not responsible for the farm being sold, your father's death, or for Chuck."

"I could have done something, Mom. I was too wrapped up in myself to see that everybody needed me." His eyes stared up at the ceiling. "I wasn't there for any of you. Dad didn't raise me to neglect the family."

Al hated seeing his friend in torment, but his best thing wasn't comforting others. He tried though, "Listen, kid, I know there's no way in hell you can neglect anyone, least of all your family. You did what you had to do for yourself and that's what your family wanted."

"Wants are different from needs. They needed me here, but I wanted to be somewhere else. Anyway you look at it, I was selfish."

Al's eyes rolled - they rolled often - "Alright, so you're selfish. I don't think so, but if you want to, then okay. You're selfish. You could be the most selfish man in the history of the universe, you still couldn't stop what happened to the small farm like your father's. And I hate to tell you, even you can't stop death. It's going to happen."

Sam's head sagged, his chin to his chest. "I know what you're telling me is true, but it's going to take awhile for me to believe it."

Katie came back in with Sam's pie. "Double scoops this time, bro. You're going to get fat."

He took the plate and decided it was time to shake the blues. His tongue poked out and his face skewed like a four-year-old ratting on his big sister. Then he smiled, "Good thing we don't live near each other any more. I'd eat pie every day," his finger poked the air toward his sister, "and it would all be your fault."

Nothing was settled, but the mood lightened a little, artificially, like the flicking of fluorescent light in a cheap office building, but, as long as hot popcorn was promised, it was enough to make Sam willing to sit through the bad science in **Raiders of the Lost Ark**.

So, while huge boulders rolled down long caves toward Harrison Ford, Sam became lost in his own thoughts of what might have been. His heart was about to shatter when he looked over at some kind of disturbance going on around Al. Deb and Katie started whiffing popcorn at the admiral and the military strategist started the counter attack. The only thing Sam could do was laugh. Al could always make him laugh. The situation demanded action so the brooding scientist joined the assault. He flipped a few kernels at his buddy and the war was in full swing.

With the movie over and shell casings of popcorn covering the floor, it was decided that time came to get some rest. Al tapped his stomach with both hands. "I am eating like I won't have a chance to chow down for another month. You are really great cooks."

Sam took the opportunity to heave one last bit of popcorn at the admiral. "You're a pretty good cook yourself." An Indiana twang got exaggerated to the extreme when he said, "Seems to me that you orter do some of that fancy eye-talien cookin' yer so fonda. Show these women folks how a real man makes that macaroni stuff yer eatin' all the tahme."

Al looked at Katie, "You know, your brother has no class. Last month, he called me up because they were building a new Wendy's near his apartment. Now he can get real baked potatoes any time he wants one."

Thelma's eyes widened. "A baked potato? Did I ignore your education to the point where you can't bake a potato? You're a grown man and you can't bake a potato?"

Sam turned nine-years-old. "Mom, I can bake a potato, but if I don't have to then why bother?"

The matriarch of the Beckett clan put the back of her hand to her forehead. "I'm a terrible mother. My poor baby boy doesn't know how to bake a potato."

The conversation needed to move in a different direction. There were only so many colors of red Sam could turn into. "Okay, okay, but Mom, can you make fresh pasta with meatballs and Bolognese sauce? Al is a wizard in the kitchen."

The admiral grinned. "Now, the man finally speaks the truth about me. I may not have a huge repertoire, but I do make a mean Bolognese. In fact, I bet you have everything I need to make dinner for everyone tomorrow. It's my turn. I'll make some fresh fettuccine with meatballs a nice Caesar salad and zabaglione for dessert."

Deb stared at him. "You really **do** know how to cook."

"What self-respecting man can't handle himself in a kitchen?" All the women looked at Sam. "I said self-respecting."

"Ha ha. You can spend tomorrow teaching the ladies to cook Italian and I'll spend the day with the boys teaching them manly things."

"Like Broadway show tunes." Al took Deb's hand. "Come on, show me what we have to work with here and tomorrow we will have a Calavicci Italian dinner."

Al, Deb and Katie exited the living room. Sam sat next to his mom on the couch. "You okay?"

"Of course, I am. It's been a hard week, though."

"Very. Al and I weren't even supposed to be here. Actually, if I think about it, and trust me, I do, I don't even know how we became friends. We're nothing alike."

"Only on the surface. God knew what he was doing. He saw these two souls bouncing around and He put them in the palm of his hand and said, 'Okay, now say hello.' From that moment, the two of you became brothers."

Sam had to laugh, "You know, the first time I met Al he was punching out a vending machine. I had to drag him to the infirmary in order to stitch up his hand."

She looked into her son's beautiful eyes. "Honey, I'm going to tell you something here. You may think you did Al a great favor that day by stitching him up, but he did you the favor."

More psychology and Sam just didn't want to deal with it. "Okay, whatever you say, Mom."

"It's true. That man doesn't let people help him, but he let you. He was saying you were special and it had nothing to do with your brain. Your IQ didn't matter a whit."

He wasn't buying it yet. "So that was God's way of nudging us to say hello to each other, right?"

She knew he had to think about it for awhile, so she just said, "Yep and I'm so glad He threw the two of you together. You needed the admiral. I think until you met him, you were homeless and I think he was the same."

An odd feeling pulsed through him. He'd spent the day looking for his home and finding it boarded up and empty of all warmth. Now he was starting to realize that home was not a place. Al was right. His sense of home suddenly internalized. He would always have home.

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_AUTHOR'S NOTE: All rights to this story are reserved. Neither the whole nor parts (with exception of short excerpts for review purposes) may be published elsewhere without written permission from the author. Thank you._


	11. Day Nine Feasts and Facts

Road Trip - A Look before the Leap

The author thanks Bellasarius Productions, Universal Studios and any other creative entities responsible for Quantum Leap.

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Day Nine - Feasts and Facts 

After going to Ft. Wayne for some specialized ingredients Al started Italian Cooking 101 with Thelma, Deb and Katie sitting in rapt attention hoping to learn some new recipes. He started with homemade pasta. How they managed to find semolina flour was beyond him, but the Admiral began to see that Indiana wasn't the end of the universe. However, he was a little miffed. "You know, where are the guys? Men need to know how to cook, too." A big bowl of flour and eggs was in front of him and he began mixing.

Deb joked, "Oh, not in the Midwest. Men here only eat."

He was going to have fun with all the girls and truthfully, he didn't want the guys around. When he was in full flirt mode, other men were just annoying. "Real men cook for their ladies."

Katie pretended to write down the quote. "Tell me, Admiral, do they clean too?"

When he was surrounded by women, he became their most willing servant. After all, he wasn't stupid. "Yes, he cleans house. He waits on her and treats her like the queen she is."

Thelma was entranced. "I can't believe you make your own pasta dough."

"It's a thousand times better than the stuff you buy, but you got to use semolina flour." He kept working the dough. "It's not hard to make and cooks in a few seconds. You'll see."

Deb always seemed to be laughing. "I will have a hard time convincing the Women's Auxiliary at church that an astronaut taught me to make fettuccine."

He picked up a nearby rolling pin. "That was my one gripe with NASA. The food they sent along with us was terrible." He began to roll out the dough. "Okay, now you want to get the dough thin, but for fettuccine it still has to have a little bite to it." With the actions of a practiced chef, the glob turned into a square yard of pasta. He rolled it up around the rolling pin and pulled the pin out. "Now, here's how you make fettuccine without a lot of work." He cut thin slices of dough and when he'd gotten through it all, he started tossing it with a little more flour and suddenly the table was filled with fettuccine. "E la!" He bowed to the round of applause. "Grazie, grazie!" He washed his hands and announced. "Okay, while the pasta dries out a bit, we make the Bolognese."

The rest of the afternoon they cooked, laughed, made memories and some really good food. When six o'clock rolled around, they all convened for one last dinner together. Dave began the meal as he began them all, with a prayer. "Dear Lord, we have been blessed this week with Your grace and goodness. We have seen the end of a destructive relationship and we thank You for Your intervention. That intervention came in the form of someone we now call our brother. Thank You for sending Al to our home. We pray he will always know this is his home as well as ours. We are thankful that our family can come together to laugh and sing and to love and to enjoy a fabulous Italian banquet. So, before everyone begins to get mad at me for making the spaghetti get cold, I will say, Lord God, we thank You for all good things You provide. We will work and pray for the time when people everywhere shall have the abundance they need. Amen."

One again, Al was touched by the minister's words. "You know, Dave, you almost give organized religion a good name."

He put a heap of fettuccine on his plate and said, "That must be what one calls damning with faint praise. Now, someone pass me the meatballs."

So they ate, yet again and this time the dishes were left to wait until time together wasn't so precious. No songs tonight, just music playing in the background, a subtle support for tender words and loving conversations between families and friends. Al was given the place of honor in their circle, the new family elder.

Jason had one more question before the night ended. "Admiral, when did you know you wanted to join the Navy?"

"I'm not really sure. It wasn't so much that I wanted to join the Navy. Mostly, I wanted to learn how to fly an airplane. Took me almost two years to convince my representative to write a letter of recommendation for me to get into Annapolis."

Tom asked, "You were twenty when you got into Annapolis?"

"No, I was 18. I worked for a couple of years before I went to school."

Sam wondered, "When did you get out of high school?"

"I was 16. I had to graduate. The orphanage threw me out at 16. If I hadn't finished school by then I might not have been able to graduate."

New information about his friend was always welcome. "Okay, there's got to be a story there."

There was a great story, a part of his life that he rarely talked about, something that was going to surprise the hell out of Sam. "Sam, you played piano in Carnegie Hall when you were 19, right?"

Typically self-deprecating Sam said, "Yeah, I was a novelty act."

"When I was 16, I was a working actor off Broadway."

Sam had been taken in by the Admiral more times than he wanted to admit to. He wasn't going to fall for this. "But Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs was a movie, not a play."

Yet another crack about his height. "Bigger is not always better, Sam. Being small made me a pretty hot commodity in New York. I was 16, but I could play as young as 12. Producers and directors liked that a lot. At 16, they didn't have to educate me and being an orphan, I was emancipated and could sign my own contracts."

It was another tall tale. Sam didn't believe him. "You were not an actor."

There was enough weirdness in this part of his life that he didn't need to exaggerate. He simply told them, "I was an actor. The biggest thing I did was a revival of **Our Town** the summer before I started at Annapolis. I played George Gibb. I also did a few weeks in **the King and I** when the kid playing Chulalongkorn got appendicitis."

Thelma gasped, "With Yul Brynner?"

With a slightly shy shrug, Al said, "Yeah, only for a couple of weeks.

His buddy had a hard time believing him. "Yeah, right, you were on Broadway in a major musical?"

The Admiral stood his ground. "Yes, I was."

"With your voice?"

"Chulalongkorn doesn't sing. He just has to be princely. I did princely very well."

Sam was finally starting to think Al wasn't kidding. "You're serious?"

Al looked at Katie who sat on the floor nearby. "You had to grow up with this?"

Katie nodded sadly, "Alas, it wasn't easy." Then she laughed and slapped Sam on the knee. "You are not the only multi-talented person in the world, dear brother."

Things began to fall into place to Sam. "No wonder you can just get up in front of people and sing. You have no shame! You're an actor!"

"I guess that's one way of looking at it. I'd prefer to think that I'm supremely self-confident." He gulped down some decaf, "And rightly so!"

Katie leaned against Al's chair, her head resting against his knee. "Thank God for that." The Admiral had another conquest, this young woman whose life would be forever better. There was no backing out now even if he wanted to. Al was a card-carrying member of the clan Beckett.

It was late and the guests would be leaving after breakfast so despite no one really wanting to, they all went to their rooms to get some sleep before the morning came too soon.

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_AUTHOR'S NOTE: All rights to this story are reserved. Neither the whole nor parts (with exception of short excerpts for review purposes) may be published elsewhere without written permission from the author. Thank you._


	12. Day Ten The Road to Chi

Road Trip - A Look before the Leap

The author thanks Bellasarius Productions, Universal Studios and any other creative entities responsible for Quantum Leap.

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Day Ten - The Road to Chi 

The car was packed and time had come for good-byes. Katie and Thelma were invited to come along for the ride, but opted to stay among family a few more days. Katie didn't want to go back to Great Lakes yet. Her life there was over and the idea of packing up was still too hard to deal with. Deb made sure Sam had a supply of antibiotics in case Al started feeling sick and Thelma made sure they had food. Recalling their last time in transit, Sam had a few bottles of water stashed in the back.

The good-byes were bittersweet, but family ties were strengthened over the past week and while no one wanted to repeat the terrifying events, they were all glad that they had transpired and were now history.

Despite Al's protestations that he was feeling well, Sam took over driving. "You aren't well yet. It's only been a few days."

"Stop worrying about me. I'm fine."

"You will be."

"We're what, about three hours from Chi?"

Al never used the town's full name. "Do you ever call it Chicago?"

He had to think a moment. "Not often. I made reservations at the Carleton for us." Sam had never heard of the place. "It's a beautiful little hotel in Oak Park. Great seafood restaurant attached to it. You'll like it. I promise."

"Where's Oak Park?"

"First burb west of the city." He watched the Indiana countryside go by. "You're going to love Chi, excuse me Chicago."

"We used to go there when I was a kid. Lincoln Park Zoo was a yearly destination for us."

"Chi is a lot more than a zoo. I got to take you to Fitzgerald's. Great music and not too far from the hotel." He reached into the back seat for the box of audiotapes Gooshie gave them. The stretch pulled on the bruised muscles and he cringed, more angry than anything else. "I'm getting old, Sam. There was a time when Chuck wouldn't have hurt me at all."

As capable as the Admiral had been when he was boxing, Sam knew that there were times when size mattered. "I doubt that, Al. He's a foot taller and 95 pounds heavier. You weren't ever going to win."

"Too bad being an Admiral didn't matter to the putz. Would have saved me a lot of pain."

Sam didn't want to talk about the "incident" as the family had named the attempted murder. "Hey, pull out that tape we're not supposed to listen to until the last day."

Al found the soundtrack of Man of La Mancha and slipped it into the dash. The overture began. "The guy's not very subtle, is he."

Sam made a turn onto the Tollway and asked, "What do you mean?"

"Don Quixote, seeing the best in the worst, fighting to make things right, that's you, kid."

"Me? Quixote tilted at windmills and probably suffered from senile dementia."

Laughing at the description Al had to say, "Now, that sounds like me. Trying to beat up something a hell of a lot bigger than I am and I'm getting into that senile dementia age bracket."

"Not quite yet. I'd say another year or so."

"Be quiet and drive. I'm listening here." He laughed and heard the opening song.

From the speakers came Richard Kiley's impressive voice singing out, "Hear me now, o thou wizards and servants of sin. All you dastardly doings are past, for a holy endeavor is now to begin and virtue shall triumph at last!"

The two scientists had two different reactions to what they heard, but they kept opinions to themselves. Sam was the knight-errant seeing the potential in Quantum Leap to have virtue triumph. His sidekick, his Sancho was the pragmatist. Al didn't have naïveté to rely on. His world was too battered, but he would happily be at Sam's side, being his friend and trying to keep the man from getting his block knocked off.

Al looked over at the driver. Sam was grinning and his mouth moved with the words. "Don't tell me, you played Don Quixote in high school."

"Well, no. I played a muleteer, the one that sings **Little Bird**."

"Sam, you didn't get the lead? That's not like you."

"It was during basketball season and my parents told me I couldn't do a lead role and play ball. So, I took the muleteer. It's a great song. I was happy."

They listened a little more. Thinking about the title tune Al said, "It's not an impossible dream, Sam. Gooshie was way off here."

"I don't think the song is really about impossible dreams." He had to think a minute to put his thoughts into words. "It's more about having dreams and being willing to pursue them."

Dreams hadn't been the Admiral's friends lately and just the sound of Sam's words brought his mind to Vietnam. Diverting his attention, he turned attention back to the soaring melodies from the magnificent musical. In no time, Aldonza was singing her angry monologue. She was telling Quixote, "You have shown me the sky, but what good is the sky to a creature who'll never do better than crawl? Of all the cruel bastards who've badgered and battered me you are the cruelest of all." Al felt his gut clench. He really couldn't call Sam a cruel bastard, but this taste of family, this past week filled him with feelings of lost potential. Though he felt comforted knowing he was forever tied to the Beckett clan, it simply served to reinforce his own family hell. Aldonza told Quixote, "Can't you see what your gentle insanities do to me? Rob me of anger and give me despair. Blows and abuse I can take and give back again. Tenderness I cannot bear." Damn, too bad it was a girl singing. He felt the words were his, but Sam didn't need to know that. There was a lot Sam didn't need to know including how his back was hurting from the drive - too much sitting. They'd been on the road over an hour now. Maybe it was time to stretch and maybe he wouldn't offer to drive.

Sam pulled the car into the parking lot of a strip mall. The travelers got out and walked to a little café tucked in the corner. "I didn't think this place would still be here." Sam held the door for the Admiral. "When we were kids, Dad always stopped here for coffee and so mom could make sure we all went to the bathroom."

"I'm not taking you to the john, Sam. You're a big boy now."

"There's something to grateful for." He pointed to a booth. "Sit down."

"Yes, sir." Al slid across the worn vinyl seat and looked around. "Don't see places like this very often. I feel like I should order fries and gravy."

Sam sat across the table. "You hungry again?"

"I like to eat." A few springs had sprung in the faded seats and his back was sore. "I think these benches are older than you."

"They were old when I was a kid."

The waitress came by. Her name was embroidered on the pocket of her pink uniform. She was probably the same woman little Sammy had bring him chocolate milk about thirty years earlier. "Hello, gentlemen. My name is Geraldine. What can I do you for?"

Al flirted with her, "Coffee any good?"

She'd seen flirting before and she dished it out as well as she took it. "Hasn't been good for forty years, but you never can tell. Today might be the day, big boy. Want to give it a shot?"

"Ah, darling, if you serve it, maybe miracles will happen."

Smiling at Sam she asked, "This one is all talk, isn't he?"

"You got his number pretty quick."

Laughing at her customers, Geraldine had to ask Sam, "You still like chocolate milk, Dr. Beckett?"

Al was stunned. "You recognize him?"

"Heck, John Beckett came through here at least once a month for thirty years. His kids always had chocolate milk. He looks just like his dad and it's not like the news hasn't been filled with stories about him this week." Turning her attention to the Admiral she said, "Should you be drinking coffee, Mr. Astronaut? Didn't you hurt your kidneys or something?"

Al laughed out loud and slapped the table. "Geraldine, come home with me."

"Honey, you can't handle me. You New York boys don't know what to do with real women."

Their game was getting more fun. "I could use a teacher if you're interested."

"You could use a leash." She put her hand on his shoulder. "Now, what do you boys want?" She looked at Al and smiled, "Other than me."

Al gave up and smiled at the waitress. "If you have root beer that's ice cold, I'll take one."

"Got it, hon. What about you Dr. Beckett?"

"Chocolate milk, of course."

Geraldine left shaking her head, but smiling at her guests. Al watched her walking away, her sensible shoes making squishing noises on the linoleum floor. "I like her."

"Root beer in the morning?"

"I told you before. It's nectar of the gods and therefore appropriate any time of the day." Al adjusted his position a little. The seating wasn't being kind to his aching bones.

Sam noticed the squirming. They'd only been traveling just over an hour and the Admiral was looking beat. "You're hurting more, aren't you."

"No, I'm not. I'm hurting just the same. The farther along we are in all this the more I feel the damage. For it to last this long, he really must have been beating the shit out of me."

The images of a week earlier flashed in Sam's head. Chuck's boot slammed into the unconscious Admiral's chest time after time and then the big man picked up his prey and threw him, literally tossed him into the cold water like a sack of trash. He'd never seen anyone attempt to murder someone before. The fact that the victim was his best friend made the memory even uglier.

"I don't know how long you were out before I got down there. When I saw him beating you, you were unconscious. Katie thinks you were knocked out even before she got into the house."

"You mean he kept hitting me when I couldn't fight back?"

"Hitting, kicking, stomping, tossing you like a rag doll. I thought you were dead. It was pretty scary to see you floating in the lake face down." He paled at the recollection.

The more Sam talked, the more it sounded like the torture he had for six years all those years ago, more of his past coming up. "I don't need to hear more."

"That's okay. I don't want to think about it anyhow." He looked into the eyes of his partner. Talking seemed superfluous, but the silence was too scary. "I know we've been friends for a few years now. I've pretty much considered you my best friend since . . ." he couldn't pinpoint a time. "You have to know how I feel." Sam looked close to tears again.

"Kid, you got to stop. I know and you know. That's enough."

Sam held his words as Geraldine brought their drinks and left them again. Then in softer tones, he told his friend, "Something needs saying, Al and I don't know what it is."

"Maybe that's because it doesn't need saying. Not everything important has to have words to back it up." He took a gulp of his root beer. "Now, drink your milk and go potty."

Sam laughed his milk right out his nose. Timing is everything and Al had it down to an art. Years of doing the same thing to other children in the orphanage made him expert. Sam reached for the tin container of paper napkins. "I'll get you for this, Calavicci."

"Empty threat, Beckett. Empty threat."

They got back in the car and arrived in Oak Park just after one o'clock. The hotel was easy to miss, a simple door in a turn of the century brownstone building. Once the car stopped at the door, a valet and bellman ran up. Fifteen minutes later, they were ushered into an elegant suite that had all the amenities Al liked, but an ambience of classic old world.

Sam was impressed. "This is nice."

"Great place, here. I like it better than the downtown hotels. Feels more like a home than a hotel." He hung his coat in the closet. "Oak Park's downtown is two blocks away. Terrific little bookstore there called Barbara's. I think I'm going lie down."

As much as he wanted to ask, Sam kept quiet. It would be easy enough to watch the Admiral since they were sharing a suite. He understood the mention of the bookstore was an invitation to leave the room for a little while. Al wanted time alone and even though Sam wanted to stay, he gave the Admiral the space he asked for. "Anything you interested in reading?"

"Don't think so." He started toward his bedroom. "I'm going to call Janet again. See if she got my medical records. Have fun." After walking into the bedroom, he closed the door.

Sam walked out of the suite thinking that maybe some time alone for his own thoughts was a good thing, spend some time at a good bookstore, walk around a nice old town. Maybe it was for the best. After getting basic directions at the front desk, he walked toward town enjoying the town square and thinking that Al was probably the best person to travel with. He knew places that other people took for granted. Had Sam been in charge of hotel reservations, he'd find the closest Holiday Inn. That was predictable. Al was anything but predictable.

The bookstore held an eclectic selection. Sam found John Irving's latest novel **_Cider House Rules_** and thought it would be perfect for the flight back to Washington. Even though Al didn't indicate any interests in getting something from the store, Sam thought he'd pick up Umberto Eco's **_The Name of the Rose_** for him. Seemed like Al's kind of reading, a murder mystery set in Italy during the 14th century. He was in line to make his purchases when a stack of Newsweek Magazines caught his eye. While not the cover picture, across the top banner read, _Attempted Murder of Hero Astronaut_. A small inset had Al's smiling face from his NASA days. He debated, but figured they'd better know what was out there. Reaching down, Sam picked up **Time**, **Newsweek** and **People**, not his typical reading, but in this case he'd make an exception.

Back at the hotel, Sam sat in the living room of the suite foregoing his novel for a look at the latest mass media coverage of the debacle with Chuck. Al wasn't going to be happy. Each article was written to exaggerate the heroics of the event. The story in **People** had Al wrestling Katie from the arms of an enraged Chuck who was beating her. Somehow, there were photos of Al being brought into the hospital on a stretcher, the IV in his arm and a worried Noble Prize winner at his side. Katie was crying on her mother's shoulder and the entire thing was as exploitative as the smarmiest grocery store rag. The invasion of privacy angered him more than he thought possible. **People** even managed to find a photo of the Admiral when he returned home from Vietnam barely weighing 90 pounds and still bearing the marks of his imprisonment. The absolute betrayal was the inclusion of two photos A.J. had taken that the magazine admitted were sold to them by the 24 hour photo shop A.J. had his film processed. Sam was enraged. His family's torment was entertainment now.

While he wanted to throw the magazines at the wall, he opted for putting them in the trash and then pulled them out. He'd offer them to Al. The suite had a small fireplace. Maybe later they could ritually burn them. It was after six and Sam decided to peek in on the resting Admiral. The scientist's stomach was growling a little and the promise of good seafood sorely anticipated.

The bedroom door was closed, but Sam quietly cracked it open a bit. Al was still sleeping. Sam debated waking him. The man's body was telling him to rest, but he wasn't going to get much rest during the night if he remained asleep now. Starting with a soft call, Sam said, "Al, wake up. It's late." The Admiral didn't respond. Sam put the back of his hand against Al's forehead just to be sure. No temperature and Sam sighed in relief. His hand found itself on Al's shoulder. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty, wake up."

Al slowly rose from the depths of slumber. "What do you want?"

"Nice to see you, too. It's past six. I'm hungry and you promised to pay for dinner tonight."

"No, I didn't." He sat up and stretched still feeling the aches of his battery. "I said we'd go to dinner tonight, but pay?"

"My family fed you for a week. You owe me dinner."

Al laughed. "Okay, kid. Call down for reservations in half an hour."

"What's the name of the place?"

"Philander's"

"Philanderer?"

Al threw his legs over the edge of the bed, simultaneously annoyed and amused. "Yes, Sam. They named the restaurant after a man who cheats on his wife. The restaurant is called Philander's. The guy's name was Philander Barkley." He stood up and threw a pillow at his buddy. "Now go away so I can take a shower."

An hour later, Sam was chomping on a shrimp cocktail like he'd never eaten before. Al opted for the Lobster Vanilla Bisque which made Sam's lip curl. "Vanilla in soup? That sounds awful."

Once again, Sam's food wimpiness had Al shaking his head. "You just spent a week eating Midwest food, albeit good food, excellent even, but break out, Sam. Experiment. Lobster has a sweetness to it. Vanilla is perfect."

"These shrimp are perfect. You eat dessert first. I'll stick with these."

When the next course came, Sam debated when to tell Al about the magazines. He took a bite of his Caesar salad and watched Al enjoying pears and figs with Balsamic vinegar and blue cheese. "You know, my food is terrific, but watching you is making me ill."

"Wimp."

Sam stalled. He had to tell Al about the magazines, but he knew full well how the Admiral would react. Turned out it wasn't up to Sam to decide. A young man from a nearby table stopped to ask, "Excuse me, but are you Admiral Calavicci?"

Al was surprised at the question. "Yes, I am. What can I do for you?"

"If you wouldn't mind, sir, if I got a **Time** magazine from the hotel, would you sign it for my girlfriend?" He pointed to the blonde two tables over. "She thinks what you did was awesome."

"What I did?"

Sam looked at Al. "**Time** has an article about you and Chuck."

The idea seemed ridiculous. "**Time**? What for?"

The young man suddenly became uncomfortable. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your dinner. I'll leave."

Al held up his hand to stop him. "Wait, you just surprised me."

"I won't bother you." He smiled. "But, I also think what you did was awesome."

They watched him go back to his table and continue dining with his lovely partner. Sam couldn't look up from his salad. "I'm sorry, Al."

"I was hoping this wouldn't happen."

"You thought it might?"

"You mean you didn't?"

Sam was floored. "No, I don't think I did. I wish this would all just go away."

A slice of pear found Al's mouth. "Wait until the networks start coming at you to sign for a movie of the week."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Guess again. They will and you have to swear to me that you won't sign with anyone."

"Don't worry."

A few minutes later, their waiter brought their meals. As Sam's steak and Al's crab stuffed flounder were presented Al asked the waiter, "Could you bring me a menu, one to keep?"

"Yes, sir."

Sam started cutting into his filet. "What's that for?"

"That couple. They wanted an autograph. We'll sign the menu." He took a bite of the flounder. "Why do you order steak in a seafood restaurant?"

"I ate shrimp."

"It's useless." The menu arrived. Al pulled a pen from his pocket and signed his name. Handing the pen to Sam he told him, "Sign this. Put the initials after your name. You know, the PhD, MD thing. They'll like that."

Sam signed the menu and smiled. The Admiral was tough, no one could deny that, but he had no stomach for hurting people's feelings over little things. The young couple would get their memento of the evening. Sam handed the menu back to Al. "You want all six PhDs?"

"One will do." Al put the menu to the side and they continued to eat.

Their waiter returned for a dessert order. Al asked the waiter to take the menu to the young couple and also to give him their check. Philander's was a high end place. Sam marveled, "You're feeling generous tonight."

"I want them to remember us because of this, not because of Katie and her ex."

"Good thought."

The waiter delivered his gift and the couple came to their benefactors. The woman was blushing and so excited to meet the pair. "Thank you so much for the menu, but we can't have you paying our check."

Al stood up and took her hand. "It's our pleasure." Sam stood up realizing he wasn't being an old world gentleman like his older friend.

She continued. "I'm a social worker and I work at Sarah's Inn. It's a shelter for battered women. Too many people don't get involved. Thank you."

"That's laudable work." He fumbled for a second. "I'm afraid you have the advantage. I don't know your names."

The man told them, "I'm Terry Hamilton. This is my fiancée Beth Curran. We got engaged tonight." He kissed her lightly.

Al congratulated the groom and wished the bride well. The couple excused themselves and returned to their table their souvenir menu in hand. As the travelers sat down Al mumbled, "Her name would be Beth."

Dinner was done and they weren't in their suite for 10 seconds before Al asked, "Where are those magazines?"

"You sure you want to read them?"

Al spotted the short stack on the table in front of the settee. He didn't say a word. **People** was on top. Grabbing it, he sat down and looked at the cover. "At least we're not cover material."

"We are. **Newsweek** has your NASA PR picture on the cover. A little tiny picture, but it's on the cover."

"So let's see what kind of misinformation is getting printed."

Of all the magazines, Sam dreaded **People** most of all. All he could do was sit back and watch the Admiral reading the distorted story and seeing the pictures he didn't need to see. It was visible to Sam's practiced eye that his friend's breathing was getting rapid and his body tensing. "You don't have to read it, Al. You lived it."

The Admiral didn't even hear his friend. His own eyes were honed in on a series of photos detailing his life, a life he protected as much as he could. "Where did they find these? Shit." A chronicle of his life was laid out over two pages.

A small picture documented his performances in **Our Town. **Sam tried to lighten the moment. "At least now I believe you were on Broadway."

"Oh God." He stared at a cadaverous photo of the Navy lieutenant coming home from Vietnam. "I didn't know this picture even existed. God damn it. No one needs to see that."

Sam immediately knew what Al meant. The picture was disturbing. "Yeah, when I saw that I knew you'd be upset."

Al yelled, "Upset! You think I'm upset!" The magazine flew across the room knocking over an innocent lamp in the process. The bulb shattered leaving a dark spot in the corner of the room. "They had no right to dig around like that!"

"**Time **and **Newsweek** are better. They got the story right and don't have old pictures of you." Sam hoped the Admiral wouldn't hear the cover-up in his statement.

But Al heard it just fine. "Old pictures. You said old pictures. What new pictures do they have?"

"You have to listen to me first. It's not A.J.'s fault. The photo lab made copies to sell and **Time** paid them. They admit that in the article." Al leaned back, his head facing the ceiling. Both hands covered his eyes. "They have pictures of us taking you into the hospital." He took a deep breath. "And two pictures that A.J. took of your injuries." The photos used were chosen for shock value and gave the world a look at the scars left by his time in Vietnam.

**Time** was snatched off the table. Al found the article and past feelings of humiliation gained strength. "Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it." Unfortunately old methods of dealing with adversity gained strength as well. "Let's go get drunk."

The idea had an appeal, even to Sam who was not known to get dizzy from alcohol. "You can't get drunk. You're on too many meds right now."

"Fuck that too. I don't need all that crap. I'm not some sick old man."

"You sure as hell are sick." The fiery look he got made Sam amend the statement, "Okay, not sick. You're hurt and your age has nothing to do with it."

The Admiral got up to retrieve **People **and replaced the lamp. "This was stupid to do." A quick inspection alleviated his concern for his destruction of property. Magazine in hand he returned to the sofa and once again thumbed through the pictorial history of his life. He stared at the reality of his ignominious return from Vietnam. The picture was taken right after the plane landed in San Diego, his first steps onto American soil. At the time, if he'd been wise, he would have allowed corpsmen to carry him down on a stretcher, but he wanted Beth to see he was able to walk, able to be her husband again. When he realized Beth was not there, the fear he carried for so long was realized. Physical and emotional pain overtook him and he collapsed as the photographer took the picture. The moment was too personal for publication, but that apparently didn't matter.

The anguish Sam witnessed on his friend's face was devastating. He walked over to Al and sat down next to him gazing at the photos that riveted Al. **People** captioned the photo _the returning hero_. Sam pointed to the picture and said, "You look like hell there."

"I felt like it." Sam's presence made him close the magazine. "Sure I can't get drunk?"

"Yeah, real sure."

"Nothing is going right." A check of his watch and he saw it was early. "I'm going to visit a friend that lives here."

"Another friend like the brunette in Delaware?"

Faking a smile, he told Sam, "No brunettes here for me." Walking to the closet to get his coat, he turned to tell Sam, "In Chi it's redheads, always redheads."

"Can I come along?"

"Three's a crowd, Sam. I thought I taught you that." Al closed the door behind him and made his way to the street. The redhead was only four blocks away, if she was home. It would have been better to call first, but she wouldn't mind. Her flat on Clinton Avenue was in a beautiful old building that went through incredible restoration to upgrade it. She asked for Al's help in the design and he took special care in making sure it met her needs and still respected the elegance of the original design.

He rang the bell and a small speaker answered him moments later. "May I help you?"

"Hannah, it's Al Calavicci."

"Al? Really?"

"Who else comes by without asking? Now open the door and let me in."

"Give me a minute, okay?"

The night was chilly and waiting didn't appeal to him, but he learned a long time ago that Hannah took her time. Truth was she had to, but it didn't matter. Once the door opened, she held out her arms and he hugged her, then he sat on her lap. Hannah was in a wheelchair. "How you doing, kid?"

"Not bad." She laughingly pushed him off her. "You're a big boy now. I hear you've had some trouble."

Al looked at the woman he'd come to visit. Hannah Gretz was Al's age; not exactly the fashion model type the Admiral was known to carouse with. Her hair was indeed red, but now streaked with gray. He told her, "Just got into town this afternoon."

She led him into her living room. "Come sit down. Tell me how you get yourself almost killed. According to the news, you're rescuing women from abusive men. My hero." The crack wasn't meant as a compliment and Al knew it.

"I didn't mean to. It just happened."

"Things always happen to you."

He tossed his coat on a chair and parked himself on the floor near her warm fireplace. "What am I going to do?"

"About what, sweetie?"

He didn't know. The question made no sense to him either. "Give me a hint."

She wheeled next to him and took his hand. "Are we in that dark place again?"

Smiling he asked, "You mean the cloak room back at the orphanage?"

Hannah met Al when they were ten and both were turned over to the Catholic orphanage in Manhattan. They played tag, kick the can, and spin the bottle, a lot of spin the bottle. "Al, you come to see me when you're scared."

"That's not fair, Hannah. I come to see you as often as I can."

"I know and you're scared a lot. Talk to me."

Even this friend from his past had never heard his stories and she wasn't going to hear them tonight. "Can't we just listen to music or relive old times in the cloak room?"

Hannah moved her foot rests out of the way, locked the wheels and slid to the floor next to Al. "Honey, reliving old times is fine by me." Her hands began to massage his shoulders. "I got scared when I heard about what happened to you. I wasn't surprised, but I was scared. You have to stop trying to be Robin Hood. Someday, you're going to run out of lives and I don't want to bury you."

He leaned against her shoulder wanting the warmth of an old friend more than anything else. "I'm not going to be lucky enough to die anytime soon."

"You stupid ass." Her hand lightly tapped the top of his head. "Lucky enough."

"Don't hit me. I've been hit enough lately."

Her arms enrobed him. "I'm sorry. You've had a rough one and I'm bopping you."

"Well, I'd like to bop you, if you know what I mean."

She held him and he relaxed with her as he hadn't relaxed in weeks. "No bopping, baby. We stopped that when we were twelve."

"Can't blame a guy for trying." Looking into her eyes he told her, "You know I love you."

"Yes, I know and we're not going to fuck that up with sex." He cuddled up with her. "You need to be quiet here?" All he could do was nod. "Okay, then I'll be quiet." She reached over to pick up a remote control on the end table. The lights dimmed and some sweet music started playing. Hannah held her friend so he could feel safe if only for a little while.

About twenty minutes later, he broke through the quiet and asked her, "Are you still teaching that Doofy Decimal stuff at Rosary?"

She sighed at his oft repeated one liner. "Yes, I'm still teaching library sciences and the Dewey Decimal System. I'll be teaching forever."

Having Hannah around would be really great and they needed someone with her skill. "Would you be willing to move to New Mexico?"

"For what?"

"A job. We're going to need an anarchist." It was another old joke.

Hannah played along with his teasing like always. "I'm an archivist, not an anarchist."

"What's the difference?"

"If you don't know, then you're in big trouble, although anarchy does have its appeal. Now, why do you need an archivist?"

Al explained the top secret project to his old friend. The joy came back in his voice when he explained the science and what the potential was. Hannah was infected by his enthusiasm and an hour later, she agreed. If he got the funding, she would finish up her term at Rosary College and move to Stallion's Gate and create the system to track all the changes in time that Sam and Al would be making.

"You going to build me an accessible home and office?"

"I designed this place for you, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did. I love my home."

Al looked into her hazel eyes. "Okay, now you come clean with me. How's the MS going?"

Hannah smiled at him. Her health was stable and looked like it was going to stay that way. "I'm doing good, really good."

It was time for him to go. "I need you with me in New Mexico. You have to come. I'll rebuild this place down there for you, lots of air conditioning to keep your MS happy."

He kissed her and held her tight. She returned the hug and managed to find the spot on his back that hurt like hell. Hannah felt his body tighten up. "Oh, I hit something, didn't I?"

"It's getting better." Standing up, he held Hannah's chair. "Need a hand?"

She could have used one, but her friend was hurting. It wasn't good for him to be helping her off the floor. Getting up on her own wasn't impossible, but it also wasn't pretty. "No, sweetie, I'm going to stay by the fire a little longer."

Al crouched by her side. "Thanks, Hannah." He tugged at her long hair. "Too bad they don't make inkwells any more."

"Too bad they don't make cloakrooms." She kissed him on the lips, the way you kiss a lost love. "Don't go saving damsels in distress any more, okay? I don't know what I'd do if you went away for good. Please, Al, be more careful."

"Just for you, Hannah." One more tug on her hair, then he picked up his coat. "See you in New Mexico in a few months."

Hannah smiled and gave her buddy thumbs up. "You bet." Al walked out into the cold night leaving Hannah to pick herself up and get on with her life.

It was past midnight when Al found Sam snoring on the couch. "Hey, wake up!"

Sam came back to the world of the awake after a big yawn and a fist rubbing his eye. "Where have you been?"

"I told you. In Chicago, it's redheads."

"I hope you had fun."

"I did and before you get on me I want you to know I hired an archivist for Quantum Leap." Sam was shocked that Al would hire someone in such a crucial position without his input. "Oh, don't look at me like that. The redhead is an old friend. We grew up in the orphanage together. Hannah was my first girlfriend. For twenty years, she's been a professor of library science specializing in archival systems. She's perfect and you'll like her." He put his coat away. "So go to bed. That's where I'm going."

Sam was not pleased with the disappearing act Al pulled. "You have a slew of medications to take. Did you do any drinking?"

The Admiral spun around. "That's my decision to make, not yours. You don't want to trust me, then that's fine, but don't act like my God damned father. He's been out of my life for 42 years now and you don't have the legs to be my mother."

"Just stop it, Al. Getting angry at me isn't going to make the magazines go away and why did you hire someone without bringing me in on it?"

"Hannah Gretz is one of the top archivists in the country. Now, you tell me how many archivists do you know? Quantum Leap is your science, but it's our project and if you don't trust me to hire an archivist, then screw it. I can find better ways to occupy my time. I don't need you or five years of meddling in time." He started out hating every word he said knowing it was braggadocio based on his own fears and taken out on someone he knew wouldn't desert him. If he had sense, he'd apologize, but he didn't want to. His bedroom beckoned and he stormed into it hoping his encounters with people were over for the night.

Sam understood the Admiral was fighting demons, but it hurt every time the guy spouted off and said things he shouldn't. This was the first time Al said anything about leaving Quantum Leap though. The whole thing just didn't seem worthwhile if Al wasn't there. Maybe Gooshie could replace the Admiral. He felt empty all of a sudden and priorities started to get into another order. Al and his mental and physical health moved ahead of Quantum Leap, not just for the moment, but forever. Rather than making him feel better, the knowledge made his heart heavy. The Admiral's complexity wasn't going to make it easy for Sam.

The physicist was tired himself. He wanted sleep, but he had to check on his friend one more time. When he got to the bedroom door, he knocked carefully. Barging in wasn't going to win him any points. "Al, can I come in?"

A tired voice whispered, "Yeah."

Sam walked in and found Al sitting on the bed, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. He admitted to the Admiral, "I'm sorry. I trust you to hire anyone you think we need."

"Good." There wasn't a move made. His stillness was near trancelike.

The exit he wanted to make did seem to be to be working. "I'm going to sleep."

Al slowly turned to look at Sam. "You'll like Hannah. She's good and we can trust her with information like changes in history."

"Maybe I can meet her before we go back to DC."

"Yeah, I'd like that." Sam started to leave. "Wait, kid." It was all too confusing, but he had to tell Sam, "I didn't mean it about leaving Quantum Leap. I want this."

"Me too, but only if you're there."

"If you can put up with this shit."

"Goodnight, Al. See you in the morning."

It was a useful conversation. The anger was diffused for both men. Sam would be able to rest without Al's words eating at him. Al knew Sam wasn't going to hold a grudge. Both men thought about Gooshie and cursed/blessed him and his suggestion for a road trip. The pain of the past days was a horrible brand on both of their psyches, but the results were positive in some regard. Sam saw only that positive. That was his nature, the soul of a man who trusted easily, loved unconditionally, and thought mankind was basically good. His friend didn't believe that. Yet, these two disparate men were, at the core of their being, identical twins. Their purpose in life exactly the same - to protect those who were unable to protect themselves. The Admiral used his intelligence and street life to cut through the liars and villains. Sam's intelligence was legendary, unable to be judged by current tests. He depended on it and his strong, caring heart to bring down evil. The combination of these two men was an impenetrable force that was now going to harness time to help them help others. They both slipped under the covers and turned out their lights. Sam smiled hoping to dream of the potential of the future. Al had no smile, knowing he'd dream of potential left behind.

The jungle was ugly. He hated it. There was a reason he was a pilot. He wanted the freedom of flight, the sound of wind, the brush of sunlight. Now, he was grounded for how many years? He didn't remember any more. All he did was try to get through another day hoping not to get chosen to be amusement for the guards, but lately that prayer wasn't getting answered. They pulled him from his cage that morning so early that light was barely beginning to filter through the rotting leaves. His body only wore tattered shorts. Bare feet stumbled along the trail to the ring, the center of the camp where a playground of terror was designed to make life hell. It was going to be a long day.

In the next room, Sam dreamt of his father. It was the day his parents received word about Tom and they had to break the news to their surviving children. Katie had gone to a friend's house after school, but Sam came home running most of the way. Representatives from MIT met with him at school and they were offering a full scholarship. He ran up the steps of the white farm house and sensed something was wrong. His father and mother were sitting together in the parlor, their arms around each other.

When he walked in, they separated a bit and asked him to sit down. With calm simple words, his father told him that his brother Tom was dead and wouldn't be coming home. Thelma started crying again. John tearfully put his arm around her. It was one of the few times young Sam witnessed his father crying. His mother was becoming inconsolable. She ran outside and yelled to the skies, "No! Please no!"

The screams changed though. They began to come from some other place, some other voice and Sam woke up startled from sleep by hideous screams from the next room. He bolted from bed and ran to find Al the source of the desolate wailing. There was no time for subtlety. Al had to be awakened immediately. Sam took him by the shoulders and shook him. "Al, wake up. You're dreaming, Al. Come on!"

Al sat upright panting, out of breath and still in terror. He saw Sam and realized it was another dream, but it wasn't going away. The heels of both hands pounded against his forehead. Sam pulled the hands down, "Don't. You're okay. Try to breathe slower."

"Oh, God." He tried to follow Sam's advice, but it wasn't happening. The Marquis was still there and the cattle prod was set off in his back again. An excruciating scream sounded out and Sam did what had worked the other night. The younger man took the Admiral in his arms and held Al like his mother had. A week before, Al would have pushed Sam away, but at last he admitted he couldn't do this alone. Sam would help. Sam wanted to. The terror began to lessen and Sam wiped away a small line of tears. He would shed no more.

As his friend began to relax, Sam loosened his grip. Al gently pushed a little and Sam backed off. "Can I get you anything?"

His first thought was a new life, but he opted to ask for water. While Sam was out of the room Al accessed the damage. His body ached. The bruise over his kidney was hurting like hell. "God damn dreams." He ran his fingers through his hair and found it dripping wet. He murmured, "This has got to stop."

"That would be nice." Sam handed Al a towel. "You may want to throw this around your neck. You're a little sweaty."

"Observant, aren't you?" He put the towel around him and was grateful for the little bit of warmth it provided. "Thanks."

Sam offered the glass of water to his friend. Al's hand reached out but he was shaking too much to take it. It would be easy help Al while he drank, but Sam didn't know how the Admiral would react to the suggestion. Al coughed, his throat parched and needing the water badly. "Listen, I could hold the glass for you if you want." The offer was accepted. Sam pulled up the side chair and held the glass at Al's lips. His other hand supported his head. Al gulped down almost the entire glass before he gestured for it to be taken away. The air in the room took on a chill and Al pulled the towel around his cold shoulders. Sam said, "If you want, I can sit here awhile until you get back to sleep."

The Admiral's deep, dark voice said, "No questions tonight? Usually you want to know what it was all about."

"No questions. If you want me to know, you'll tell me."

"Not necessarily, kid." Bloodshot eyes looked at his young friend. "See, I want you to know, but I don't have the guts to tell you."

"I don't believe that."

Al grimaced. "I don't know why people think I'm brave. Shit, all I want to do is crawl into a hole and hide, but no one gives me the chance to."

"I guess we don't see you like that. We see the results of your actions and they look brave to us."

Al sat there and thought he had a chance here, the chance to do something courageous. Sam said they were brothers now. "I'm not sure I can do this, but I want to try. Just be patient and when I want to stop, then we stop."

Sam's own heart started pounding. "You call the shots, Al. What do you want me to do?"

The torment was obvious, but Al looked into Sam's eyes and said, "Just listen, okay?" Sam agreed and Al began telling the tale of his dream. "Okay, okay." He stumbled a few times trying to get started. "Okay." The words wouldn't come. His eyes closed against the images and at long last, he started. "This is what it was like that day."

His wrists were tied with rough rope, his arms outstretched and tied so high that his feet couldn't touch the ground. The pain always surprised him. He thought he'd be used to it by now. His back was to the rising sun and the day already so hot that he saw wisps of evaporation rise from the rain-soaked vegetation. They'd done this to him before. By evening, he'd be covered in blisters from the sunburn, but at least they wouldn't be beating him until tomorrow when they could burst open the blisters and enjoy watching his body gain more scars.

But this wasn't going to be the usual torment. They had a new game in mind and left Al in the dark about the rules. They stripped him naked and chained his ankles to a metal bar leaving him spread-eagled in the air. The bar added another twenty pounds of weight pulling down on his arms and his right shoulder popped. The guards had one more surprise for him. A long bamboo pole was pressed against the small of his back. Three men pushed on it until Al's back arched so high his head fell back. The pole was anchored and knew he was going to die. This was his day.

The pole sent stabbing pain throughout his body. The sunlight made his eyes burn no matter how hard he shut them against its rays. He made a promise that he would not cry out or scream. They wanted him to beg for mercy and it wasn't going to happen. Then the first lash came down across his gut. He twisted against the ropes and the pole. The whimper was small, but he wouldn't let them hear a scream. It wouldn't happen today.

By noon, the half dead lieutenant was a burned, blistered pathetic shell. Pain numbed his mind. The immensity of the aching was incomprehensible, but he kept his promise. He had not screamed nor made any sound beyond that first small indiscretion. All he needed now was to die and as far as he was concerned, he was ready. Problem was the VC weren't ready. They had other things in mind.

He coughed out a stray bug that lit in his mouth. The guard called Marquis yelled at him in Vietnamese. Before his fatigued brain could translate the words, the cattle prod jammed into his gut and discharged three times. Nothing was in his stomach, but he vomited, each wretch pushing the pole deeper into his back. Stomach acid mixed with blood as his mouth filled with whatever was in him to throw up. He couldn't help muted cries of pain. The sound brought laughter from the Marquis. It was what he wanted.

The cattle prod found the bottom of Al's foot. The voltage was at max. Al's body contorted involuntarily and his pain began to find a voice. "No, stop." He still wouldn't beg. The prod discharged two more times on his leg and the shock threw Al's body off the pole. The bamboo dropped to the ground. Al dropped too, but the jungle floor was inches away from bringing relief. The whimpers grew in size to agonizing breathless groans.

Two more guards joined the party and whips landed hard against his blistered body. The groans became louder and louder. His promise would be broken. "Please, no more. Please!" That only brought more laughter and more jolts from the prod. The Marquis placed the electric torture against the bruise made by the bamboo pole. The device fired and Al felt his insides explode. The scream was uncontrollable.

That was the scream that brought Sam into Al's room almost an hour earlier. Now, the two men sat staring out in front of them focusing on nothing in particular, trying to understand the ugliness of Al's truth. Sam's spirit was devastated by the story. It was inhuman and still Al survived. When the Admiral could speak again, he told Sam, "So, there it is, another day that I'm ashamed of."

Sam was baffled by Al's words. "Ashamed? Why?"

"I shouldn't have begged them to stop. They got what they wanted from me. I didn't have the guts to stand up to them."

Again, tears were heard in the room, but they were Sam's "My God, is that what this has been about? You feel ashamed?" He had to wipe his face before continuing. "Oh, Al. No one could live through that and not break. Shit, you're human, a man, not God and I'm not sure how God would do."

"I broke. I would have given them anything. I would have done anything. Truth is I did do things there Sam, that I don't know if I'll ever tell anyone." The quiet was uneasy. "What time is it?"

Sam checked the clock. "Just after three."

"I'm going back to sleep. Hopefully you won't find me curled up behind the chair in the morning. I've done that at home on occasion." Sam didn't move. He felt unable to. "Are you okay, Sam?"

Working hard to get up Sam told his friend, "No, I'm not okay, but I will be. Goodnight, Al."

"Goodnight, kid."

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_AUTHOR'S NOTE: All rights to this story are reserved. Neither the whole nor parts (with exception of short excerpts for review purposes) may be published elsewhere without written permission from the author. Thank you._

Man of La Mancha © Dale Wasserman, Mitchell Leigh and Joe Darion


	13. Day Eleven Laying Down the Law

Road Trip - A Look before the Leap

The author thanks Bellasarius Productions, Universal Studios and any other creative entities responsible for Quantum Leap.

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Day Eleven - Laying Down the Law 

Morning came. Sam woke with dawn and decided to look in on Al. The Admiral was still in his bed, a situation the younger man hoped for. He prepared for the day and then sat in the living room waiting for his friend to make some noise. **Cider House Rules** helped him pass the time constructively until he heard Al turning the shower on just past nine o'clock. Knowing that the Admiral was going through his routine allowed him to relax a little more and he could finally admit to being hungry.

About half an hour later Al emerged from the bedroom dressed for the day. "Morning, Sam."

"Hi. I want food."

"Me too. There's a breakfast place a few blocks from here. Will you let me eat eggs with cheese and sausage without getting on my case about cholesterol?"

"Probably not, but I doubt that will stop you."

"You got that right. Get your coat."

They walked out into the cold morning. Al looked at his feet more than anything else, but after half a block, he started talking. "I guess we need to talk more about last night."

"We do?"

"I think so. Not so much about me, but about Quantum Leap."

"I'm not understanding you."

He looked up at his buddy. "Figured you wouldn't." He took a few steps before he said, "I know you and I know what we're going to have the potential to do." They waited for the light to change. "See, I know you have it in your head that you can change my life and keep all that shit from happening to me."

Sam blushed. He'd thought about that most of the night, even dreamt about it when he finally fell back asleep. Quantum Leap could keep Al from suffering that hell and keep him from the fallout. "It crossed my mind."

The light changed and they crossed into downtown Oak Park. "You have the math figured out Beckett. I know you."

It was true. Part of the work that still needed to be done was determining how to pinpoint a leap into a specific time. Working on a hypothetical situation wasn't as compelling as working on a solution for a friend. "It's not figured out. I'm a long way from that."

Al held the door to the restaurant open for Sam. "Yeah, well, I'm not interested in being your guinea pig. Leave me out of the mix, Sam."

The hostess seated them at the window and the waitress was instructed to bring coffee, lots and lots of coffee. "Al, these nightmares are horrifying from my point of view. I can't imagine what they're like for you. We can stop them."

"And what do you think the committee will think when we start messing with our own lives? They'll pull the funding faster than a pig shits."

Sam almost did a spit take. "How fast might that be?"

"I haven't got a clue." Finally, there was a smile on Al's face. It felt good. "I'm clueless most of the time, kid. You better realize that now." He winked and took a big slug of steaming coffee.

"How can you drink it that hot?"

He kept smiling. "How? I'm not a wimp."

Sam was trying to come up with something smart aleck to say, but he couldn't. He had to say, "After what I heard last night I agree. You're a lot of things, but not a wimp."

"We don't have to talk about that, Sam."

Sam saw potential in Quantum Leap to keep that ugliness from Al and his friend didn't want it. "We can make it right for you. Al, let me try."

"They'll pull funding. Are you hearing me? Besides, you start playing with my life then any kind of objectivity we have flies out the window. As it is, it's going to be hard enough to stay objective when we're dealing with other people."

His face showed his disappointment. The gift he wanted to give was being rejected. "I just wanted to help you."

"You can't fix everything. We got to be selective and I don't want you to select me."

Sam's world was crumbling. Al didn't know, but the original idea for Quantum Leap was designed to help bring his Tom Beckett home from Vietnam alive. However Al's reasoning applied to that dream as well. It seemed so obvious. Quantum Leap wasn't a selfish endeavor and that had to be a tenet from the beginning. "Al, I think we need to make that part of the by-laws."

"Make what a by-law?"

The waitress took their order before Sam was able to answer. "The first rule of Quantum Leaping; we can't change our own lives and that includes anyone who works there, not just you and me."

"Good idea, Sam. We make it numero uno and it's out on the table. I like it."

They ate their breakfast without a lot of talking. The rule Sam declared was right. They both knew it, but they both mourned the loss of potential. Each man had a sibling whose soul was taken too soon. Each man wanted the return of that soul, but in good conscience it could not happen. So once again they grieved. Tom and Trudy would remain ghosts of love and caring that helped them get through the tough times, but they would always stay memories.

When they left the restaurant it had started snowing again. Rather than worry about it, they took a long walk. Al liked long walks. He was rarely still even in staff meetings, Al usually paced moving from seat to seat in the room. Sam thought it an odd quirk of a man with too much energy. Now he was more inclined to attribute it to Al's living in a cage for so many years. Once he had freedom to move as he wanted, he had to keep moving. It kept him fit and probably helped keep his lousy eating habits from clogging arteries.

Sam got an architectural tour of more Frank Lloyd Wright Houses than he thought existed. Then there was this toy store called Foster's, an old-fashioned kind of place that Al loved. The child Al didn't have many toys, so the adult was making up for it. Match Box cars seemed to be the favorites and two were going home with him, a black '68 Corvette and a red '65 Mustang.

"You're really going to buy those?"

"Lighten up, Sam. I would have given my eyeteeth to own a '68 'Vette. Damn good-looking car. Of course, I wasn't aware of that until '73."

"Why?" and he knew why as soon as he asked. "Oh, never mind."

Al laughed. "Don't worry so much. I'm not that psycho." He handed money to the clerk. "Yet." He spied something behind the counter. "Okay, give me two of those, the red one and the yellow one." The clerk pulled the toys from the rack behind him.

Back out on the street, Al opened his bag of toys and pulled out the last items he bought. He opened the packaging, dumping the cardboard and plastic into the trash. "You know how to use one of these?"

"It's a yo-yo, Al."

"I know what it is. You know how to use it?"

"It doesn't take a rocket scientist."

"Good, because you ain't one." With a childlike glint in his eye, the Admiral poked his own chest. "I'm the rocket scientist." A yellow yo-yo was pushed into Sam's unwilling hand. "Let's see how good you are."

Pretty much all he knew how to do was make the thing go up and down. Something told him his friend was going to be a lot more skillful. "I haven't played with one of these since I was eight."

"Eight? Really? Too bad. They're fun." Al began loosening up the string a little and the yo-yo was like a bullet train, moving so fast Sam could barely see it. "I loved these when I was a kid. They were cheap. Then again, I never really had to buy them. Most of the time I'd win them from the other kids."

Sam nipped at the bait dangled in front of him. "I'll bite. How would you win them?"

"Sometimes it was checkers. Sometimes poker. Mostly poker."

"In the orphanage?"

"What else was there to do?" He started whipping the yo-yo around. "I mean with the boys."

"Come on, Don Juan. Let's go." They walked and Al yo-yoed. "Are you going to do that all the way back to the hotel?"

"Yes and I expect you to join me."

"Think again."

They kept walking around town. Conversation centered on basketball, rock and roll, string theory, how to walk the dog with a yo-yo and the pros and cons of motorcycles. Al was for them. Sam called them donorcycles since motorcycle accidents provided most of the donor organs available for transplantation.

"Sam, you're no fun."

"I like to use my brain. Not find it smeared along a highway."

"No accounting for taste." The yo-yo still flew up and down. And as whimsically as the yo-yo moved about, Al changed subjects. "You got to meet Alex. Wrote a dissertation on using nanotechnology for information retrieval systems in microcomputers. Now, if that can be done for microcomputers imagine what can happen with mega-computers?"

"Sounds interesting. Someone for Quantum Leap?"

"I think so." Al kept throwing the yo-yo out in front of him. "For you too. Big brown eyes and a smile that could keep a sailor happy for a very long time."

Sam stopped in his tracks. "Excuse me?"

"Alex has big brown eyes and is really good looking."

Sam didn't understand what Al was talking about, at least he hoped he didn't. "You got to be kidding, right?"

But Sam's confusion was all a setup and the scientist fell for it. "Sara Alexander Kelley is a PhD in nanotechnology. One of about five in the country. She's brains and beauty and loves to talk about mathematical formulas almost as much as you." The yo-yo flew out in front of him and back. "And she does other stuff good, too, if you catch my yo-yo. Can you think of any other reason to go to Delaware?" One-track mind, that's what Sam was thinking and Al knew it. The Admiral shook his head and laughed, "You're an easy mark, Sam, way too easy. Anyhow," Al pushed his finger teasingly into Sam's chest. "Alex is younger than you."

"Never stopped you before."

"In this case it does. I've known her since the day she was born. Her Dad and I grew up together in the orphanage. Ross was a good guy."

The use of past tense meant that the Admiral's friend was dead. Sam just asked, "Are all your friends from the orphanage?"

"I kept in contact with two. Hannah Gretz, our new archivist and Ross Kelley who spent his life teaching underprivileged kids in the scummiest neighborhoods you ever saw, but he loved it. Loved the kids. Good guy and his daughter, whom I love like a daughter, is drop dead gorgeous."

It was almost four o'clock and they started back to the hotel. They'd done nothing but talk and have a good time. No conversation about Chuck. Not much about DC. The science talk was fun, so that was okay. Al tried to explain why counting cards in Blackjack wasn't cheating despite what the dealers in Vegas said. Sam wanted Al to understand the intricacies of milking a cow.

Harlem Avenue divides Oak Park from River Forest. It's a busy street, the kind that truckers use and usually ignore yellow lights. Al stepped out when the green flashed. Sam's hand reached out and yanked him back inches from getting smashed across two suburbs. "Watch it, Al. You need a keeper."

Al looked down the street at the 18 wheeler that almost crashed into him. "Damn, thanks Sam. That's twice in one week."

"You planning on making this a habit? If you are, I'd like to know. I want to take out an insurance policy on you with me as beneficiary."

"Don't worry about it. You already are."

As they crossed the street, Sam did a double take. "What do you mean?"

Al just kept walking. "If I die, you get my junk. Got a few wives who'll get most of the cash, but you get my stuff. You know, the car, my bikes, my house." He laughed, "My mortgage." When they got up the curb into Oak Park, Al added, "My little black book, but I tell you right now, Beckett, if I come back from the dead and find that you're not going through it in alphabetical order, I'll haunt you for the rest of your life."

Sam wanted answers. "Why did you do that?"

He pretended not to hear. "By the time I kick, the car will be shot to hell anyhow. I drive it hard. Sell the bikes. You're afraid of them. Now, the house, I did a lot of custom design there. If you sell it, make sure you get the specs and get a good realtor. It's got a lot of perks built in."

"Al, I don't want your things."

Trying to lighten the conversation Al stomped his foot saying, "You don't want my car? My fancy personally customized Lamborghini with the Bang & Olufssen sound system? You nuts?"

"Your car is nice, but why am I in your will? You shouldn't be leaving your house to me."

Al looked down and pulled a cigar from his pocket. He lit up and as the first puff trailed up into the darkening sky he said, "You got anyone else in mind? Drop it."

It was dropped and they returned to their rooms to spend a quiet night watching television and getting room service. The long walk in the cold made for a tiring day and both men earned their sleep.

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_AUTHOR'S NOTE: All rights to this story are reserved. Neither the whole nor parts (with exception of short excerpts for review purposes) may be published elsewhere without written permission from the author. Thank you._


	14. Day Twelve Putting on the Ritz

Road Trip - A Look before the Leap

The author thanks Bellasarius Productions, Universal Studios and any other creative entities responsible for Quantum Leap.

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**Day Twelve - Putting on the Ritz**

Sam had an uneventful night. Al made it through without another nightmare, a feat he considered a victory if small. After a call in to Senator Summerfield, Al realized he didn't have anything appropriate to wear to the committee meeting he'd be at in two days. Sam was still in his pajamas and reading the paper in the living room. Al hadn't changed from his pajamas either. He pulled the top over his head and announced the plans for the day. It was a field trip to Luigi Migliore's, a unique men's shop in Chicago's Little Italy. Migliore was Al's favorite tailor and if anyone could get him into a new suit in less than a day, it was Luigi.

"There's a bonus too. Got to be a hundred good Italian restaurants down there. So, get dressed." He started back into his room and came back out. "You're driving down. I'm not carrying a garment bag on the el." He tossed the pajama top at his buddy.

Sam caught the silk shirt. "Why am I doing all the driving? I don't know Chicago." The shirt was thrown back.

Al missed the toss and leaned down to pick up the missile. Al feigned distress, "I'm still achy from saving your sister's life, but if you want me, a man 19 years your senior to drive, then I will." There was a sigh the size of a typhoon.

"You're pitiful. I'll drive. You just better point me in the right direction."

"Would I ever lead your wrong? Don't answer that."

By ten, they were showered, dressed and driving east on the Eisenhower. A right turn onto Ashland, a left onto Taylor and they were in the heart of the old Italian neighborhood. "This place rocks at night, Sam."

On the left, Sam spotted the storefront. "That where we're headed?"

"Yeah." He pointed, "Turn here and go into the alley. I called Luigi. He knows we're coming and we can park in back."

From Sam's perspective it didn't seem like Luigi had much of a place. The storefront was barely 15 feet wide. "Does he have room in there for a sewing machine?"

"You'd be surprised, Sam." A parking space had a makeshift label: Admiral Calavicci Only - All others will be towed. Al smiled at the consideration. "Got to love Luigi." They walked to the back door and rang the bell.

Luigi, with an accent that broadcast the land of his birth, greeted them himself. "Ciao, Alberto. Que se dice?"

"Not much, Luigi. What's up with you?"

The tailor drew himself up to his full five feet three inches. "Not much? You lie. I see the news. Someone try to kill you."

"Yeah, well there is that."

He wagged his finger in the Admiral's face. "In Italy we have way to make him pay."

Al laughed. "Yeah, well, we got one here too. It's called jurisprudence. He'll go to jail for a long time, Luigi. Don't worry."

"Good, he a bastardo."

"Got that right." Sam started to gaze around the back room. "Hey, this is my best friend. His name is Sam Beckett."

Luigi grabbed Sam's hand with both of his. "Ah, the genius. Alberto talk about you to me. He say you real smart."

"I guess I have moments."

There was a mission to accomplish and the chit chat had to end. Luigi rubbed his hands together, anxious to work with his favorite customer. "Okay, now we all know each other. Come. Come with me. I pull some stock for you, Alberto. We find you a nice suit."

Sam and Al followed the little man into the front of the store. On one wall hung maybe two hundred suits in any number of sizes and colors. Sam was stunned. "You'd never think there was this much stuff in here."

Luigi's entrepreneurial buttons were popping. "This is just one floor. I got all five more floors of clothes upstairs."

The stunned look stayed on Sam's face. "Five floors of suits?"

"Three with suits, the last two have sport coats, trousers, formal wear." Luigi turned his concentration to Al. "I make Tony pull a dozen suits for you, Alberto. You take a look."

Off to the side a rack was filled with dark suits. Al took off his coat and started thumbing through them. "Luigi, I don't want to look like I'm going to a funeral."

The little tailor scurried to the wall and without a second guess brought a suit to Al. "This is no funeral suit." The dark charcoal gray jacket had a barely visible soft gray pinstripe. It was double-breasted and very elegant. "This the one then. Never you mind those." He hung the suit on a hook and helped Al try on the jacket. "It fit you pretty good already." The tailor tugged on the sleeves and the hem seeing exactly where he'd have to make his alterations. "

"Luigi, you're a genius, too. Damn, this is nice." He fingered the fabric. "This a blend?"

"Silk and wool. You wear year round, but not to funeral." Luigi roared at his joke. Al did too.

Seeing the two little Italians having such fun made Sam join in. "That's a good looking jacket, Al. I'm sure the Committee will all be dazzled by your splendor."

"Don't be cute. You're next."

"What for?"

Al was checking himself out in the three-way mirror. "Because you can't be wearing that high school graduation suit when I'm in these threads." He looked at Luigi, "For the shirt, dove grey, even paler." He pulled the trousers from the hanger and disappeared into the changing room.

Luigi yelled out, "Eh, Tony!" From somewhere, no one could actually tell from where, Tony appeared. "Tony, get me a 14½ light grey silk, French cuffs and a belt." By the time Al came out of the changing room, Luigi put out five ties. "Now, you want at least two, one for your meeting," and his eyes twinkled when he added, "and one that you can wear when you want to be well-dressed."

Al saw Sam sitting bored, like a little kid dragged by his dad to get new school shoes. "Hey, get over here. Pick out a tie for me."

"You're going to trust me with your wardrobe?"

"I'm going to trust you with a tie, the one for the Committee. You can find me the boring tie."

Sam looked over the selection and pointed to the darkest one. "That's the boring one. It's the one I like best."

"Figures. Lu, which one is the best for **not** wearing to the meeting?"

Luigi picked up a pastel pink heavy silk and held it against the jacket. "It's classic. Perfecto. You come back at three. It will be ready." Off to the side, he noticed Sam thumbing through the inventory. "You want to find a suit?"

Al was insistent. "Pull something for him. He has to get a new suit. The blazer he wears makes him look 12 years old."

"He wear blazer? Like . . . frat boy?"

It was a good laugh and Al rubbed his eyes. "Just like. He's conservative, but give him some class, something distinctive."

Without a second thought, Luigi found a very dark blue suit with a fitted cut. "You try on just to be sure of size, but I think it right. Good cut for you." Luigi puffed himself up. "Show off strong shoulders." He slapped Sam on the back, "Girls like shoulders."

The jacket slid onto Sam's body and for the first time he felt clothes could be more than something to cover up a naked body. "Oh, boy. This is nice."

"Fifteen minutes later, the alteration marks were made and a promise that Al's suit would be done, but Sam's would be sent. That was fine and the pair left Luigi's to spend some time exploring the Italian shops up and down Taylor Street.

They returned at 2:30 instead of three, prepared to wait. However, the little tailor not only had the suit ready, but Sam's was just about finished as well. "I close the shop today just for you. You special customers and you get all my time."

Sam tried on the suit for a final check of the trouser cuffs. When he saw himself in the mirror, he was surprised at how much better a suit looked when it was actually tailored. "Wow. This is really nice, Luigi." He turned sideways to look again. "Damn."

Luigi adjusted the shoulders a little. "This blue/black color is good for you. Now you wear all kind of shirt, white, cream, blue, pink, all good."

"Yeah, I think so. You got one you think will go with this? I want to wear it for the committee meeting."

Three shirt and tie combinations were waiting on a table for him. "I think the pink shirt and the traditional tie is nice for you. Conservative, but the color in the shirt is just a little bold."

Sam didn't bother looking his way, but he talked to Al. "Come and take a look. Tell me which one you think is best."

The always sartorially resplendent Admiral gazed over the choices. "Buy them all, Sam. You're a big boy now. You'll find places to wear all three."

As Sam changed back into his own clothes Al took care of the bill. Luigi told him, "Two suits, two belts, four shirts and five ties." He thought in his head. "That about two thousand dollars, but for you I make fifteen hundred."

"You're too good to me, Luigi."

"You hero. I nice to heroes."

Al pulled out a credit card. "I'm no hero. It was stupid to get into a fight with him. He was too big for me. If it weren't for Sam, I'd be dead. He saved my life."

Luigi's little eyes tripled in size. He pointed to the dressing room. "That Sam? He save you?"

Al confessed, "In more ways than one, Lu, a lot more ways than one."

The tailor pushed Al's card back in his hand. "No. No. You take suits and everything. My gift to two heroes. I proud to know you."

"Can't do that, Lu."

"You no accept my gift? That's no respectful. Good thing I no Siciliani." His index finger pulled down on his lower eyelid. "They give evil eye. I want you and Sam to take suits. My gifts. Don't worry. I charge you good to replace uniform!" He laughed again. Luigi was always highly amused at his own jokes.

"We're not done with this, but I won't argue with you now. Thanks."

Sam came out holding the trousers that needed another five minutes. Luigi took them into his sewing room and left his customers to wait. Sam started looking at more suits. "Now I see why you like this place. He's good."

"He's beyond good, Sam." The Admiral yawned and began to scratch at the stitches on his head. "When do these come out?"

"I'll take a look when we get to the hotel. I might be able to pull them."

"Good. They make my head hurt."

Sam caught the choice of word and wasn't pleased. "Your head hurts?"

His head did hurt, but no more than usual considering the events of the past week. "No. It itches more than anything. Just want these damn things out."

The doctor's eyes took a quick look. "The cut's healed up pretty well. Stop at a drug store so I can get something to sterilize the clippers."

"There's one near the hotel." Al's hand went back to the stitches. "I hate these things."

Luigi came out holding two nylon garment bags and a sack filled with accessories. "Okay, now." He handed a black bag to Sam. "Your suit and shirts are here. The ties and belt I put in the bag." The red garment bag was given to Al. "You, I give red bag to. You not so quiet as him, but your ties and belt in the bag too. I put mother of pearl studs in for French cuff."

Sam was flabbergasted. "I can't believe you did this in one day." His genius brain finally remembered he needed to pay and visions of lots and lots of money sped through his mind. "Let me get my card for you."

As Sam reached into his pocket, Luigi took his hand. "It my gift to you for saving my friend. I thank you so much. Without Alberto, this place close long time ago."

Al didn't want to hear any more. "That's enough. I won't recommend you again, so be quiet. We need to get home before rush hour gets worse, but I want to use the head. Excuse me."

Luigi waited until Al was out of earshot. He signaled Sam to come close. In a whisper he told his newest customer, "Four years ago I very sick. No work. He pay my mortgage seven months. No even tell me. From bank I find out. He save my life then." The tailor hugged Sam. "You save his life now. So I get chance repay a little." It was the kind of information Al hated people knowing. "You no tell Alberto I tell you. He don't want people know he a nice man."

"I've noticed that. I'll keep it our secret."

"Si, segreti."

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They were back at the hotel. Al was beat. Before going off for a nap, Sam wanted to take a look at the wound on Al's head. The Admiral sat on the chair by the desk. The floor lamp was pulled over and its bright light was focused on the small shaved area of Al's scalp. "I think the stitches can come out. Want me to do it now?"

There was no reason to wait. "Go ahead. Have fun."

Sam opened the bag of supplies he purchased at the Walgreen's around the corner. "Shouldn't be a problem. I do nice work. The stitches are beautiful, all even, not too tight."

"Maybe you can find some work with Luigi. Get the damn things out, would you?"

A gauze pad was soaked with rubbing alcohol and the stitches were sterilized. Sam's thumb rested against the remnants of the lump made by Al's meeting with the pylon and the Admiral grimaced, "Ow. That's still a little sore."

The bruising was hard to see through Al's dark hair, but Sam saw that the skin was still deep purple. "This is still one ugly contusion. It shouldn't be this tender." The doctor gently put a little pressure on the bump and it brought another startled wince. "I don't like this, Al."

"Just pull the stitches."

Too much time had passed and Sam had to sterilize the field again. The little fingernail scissors were dipped right into the bottle of alcohol. With the dexterity of a much more practiced hand, Sam snipped through all 14 stitches. A tweezers pulled each bit of thread completely from Al's scalp. More alcohol to clean away the tiny bit of bleeding. "And we're done. Congratulations. You're stitch free."

"Thanks, Sam. Wake me around seven."

Sam didn't want him to leave yet. "Can I take a look at the other bruises? I'd feel better if I could be sure they're healing."

The heavy sigh told Sam exactly how Al felt about an examination. "You promise to stop being an old woman about this if I let you take a look?"

Boy Scout fingers pledged to honor Al's request. "I promise on my word of honor as an Eagle Scout."

Sam as a Boy Scout in the little green shorts and the yellow tie was an image that had Al laughing. "Don't tell me you were an Eagle Scout."

"You mean you weren't? Finally, something I've done that you haven't!"

"Yeah, Little Italy was a hotbed of Boy Scout activity. I'm going to my room now."

"I'm following you in. The exam, remember?"

"Come on, Dr. Kildare. Let's get this over with." They went into Al's room to get it out of the way. Fortunately, things were looking good.

The evening came and as the sky darkened, Sam was playing with his new clothes. He'd never owned a suit like this gift from the master tailor. The shirts were elegant and he was actually looking forward to having to get dressed up, something that was a new experience for him.

Al rested, but he wasn't falling sleep. The exam was good from Sam's perspective. Ugly green and yellow bruises were replacing the purple ones and that meant one thing - Al's body was healing. From the Admiral's point of view, everything still hurt and even a little more than he thought it should, but he wasn't going to say anything. The committee in DC already demanded his medical records. There was no way he would show anyone he was hurting, least of all Sam. He tried one more time to keep his eyes closed and at last, success was his.

At seven, Sam walked into Al's room to wake him for dinner. The Admiral wasn't in bed and the bathroom door was open. Then Sam remembered words from the other night. "Hopefully you won't find me curled up behind the chair." Sam walked to the easy chair in the corner of the dark room. Behind it he found his friend sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees and leaning against the wall. Sam wanted to cry again, but he'd have to get past that. Al needed him to be strong and Sam was just going to learn how to be strong enough.

Pride got in the way of a lot, but sometimes pride had to be respected. Sam would not let Al know he'd witnessed this incident. That awareness would humiliate the Admiral and that was unacceptable. Room service for dinner would be fine and they'd order whenever Al woke up. He just hoped that Al would awaken naturally and not filled with terrors.

About an hour later, the Admiral made an appearance. "I thought you were going to wake me."

In the time he had, Sam worked out his alibi. "I fell asleep myself. Just woke up. Why don't we get some room service?"

"We got to be at Great Lakes tomorrow at nine. A.J. wants to talk to me. That should be a joy."

"Can't wait. What do you want for dinner?"

Al grinned. "Deep dish spinach pizza with sausage and a beer."

"I keep eating like you and I won't fit in my new suit."

"So, make it thin crust."

"How about something more healthful?"

"A veggie thin crust without sausage? But I still want a beer." He sat on the couch across from Sam. "Make that two beers."

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_AUTHOR'S NOTE: All rights to this story are reserved. Neither the whole nor parts (with exception of short excerpts for review purposes) may be published elsewhere without written permission from the author. Thank you._


	15. Day Thirteen Fight BackFlight Back

Road Trip - A Look before the Leap

The author thanks Bellasarius Productions, Universal Studios and any other creative entities responsible for Quantum Leap.

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Day Thirteen – Fight Back/Flight Back 

Rush hour in Chicago is hell and driving from Oak Park to Great Lake Naval Station was an evil trek. They left the Carleton at 7:15 and Sam thought they were going to be at least an hour early. Truth was, they barely made it to the meeting with A.J. on time. The JAG attorney was seated at a table in a small conference room.

Since they were on base, A.J. immediately stood and saluted. Even though not in uniform, Al returned the salute and they all sat. Sam was puzzled. "A.J., isn't that a little formal considering you were a guest at my family's home last week?"

Al answered him, "We're on base right now and most people here don't know that the Captain and I know each other socially. Since we don't want him to get called on disrespect, we play the saluting game. Actually, since I'm not in uniform, it doesn't matter so much anyhow."

The stack of papers about two inches thick was hauled out of A.J.'s briefcase. "I hate to tell you, but this is just the beginning. Zdenek is fighting the court martial and pleading innocent to all charges. He's still saying you attacked him, that it was self-defense. Corley is going through on pressing charges against you."

Between the bad traffic and this crap, Al's short fuse exploded. His clenched fist hit the table making the water glasses clink. "You told me this was going to be easy!"

Even Sam lost his temper. "You saw the medical reports. You have all our statements. How can they do this?"

Explaining the law to the uninitiated was like explaining string theory to a lawyer. "Charges can be brought against anyone at any time. Doesn't mean the charges are valid, but it can be done."

The Admiral seethed, "And it doesn't matter if the charges are dismissed. The news that they were brought in the first place, that's what people will remember. Chuckie wants to destroy my reputation. He doesn't care if the charges don't stick."

A.J. nodded. "That's what I think, too." Thumbing through the papers he found the one he was looking for. "Then there's this. They want to put this into evidence." He didn't want to look at Al when he told them, "Corley found out that you had a probation officer when you were a kid. They're going to try to make a case that you have a lifelong history of aggressive behavior."

Controlling rage indeed had been a lifelong struggle, but he never lashed out against others with that anger. It was always directed at himself. "Now they're resurrecting my childhood?"

"Looks like and if half of what they've pulled up on you is true, you were a bit of a loose cannon. I still believe fully that we will win this case, but it might get ugly for you. I keep saying you aren't boring, but I got to tell you, you weren't boring as a kid, either."

The sins of his childhood were plentiful and many were documented; the chronic running away, the disregard for authority, his notable skill as a pickpocket, the scams pulled on unsuspecting marks. "Does it say anything in there that with all the crap I pulled, I still skipped two grades in school and graduated summa cum laude from high school at 16? Or that I supported myself for two years until I could get into Annapolis? I wasn't a good kid. No doubt, but with everything that happened to me, it's a miracle I lived past 16. You tell Corley to bring it on."

A.J. smiled, "Good. That's what I hoped you'd say."

Outrage and fury were seething inside Sam. "He can't get away with this, A.J."

The voice was quiet, but precise. "There's one thing that could hurt us. Seems they have some record stating that you had sexual relations with a twelve year old girl."

It was Sam's turn. "That's ridiculous! Al would never have sex with a child."

Al knew exactly what A.J. was talking about. "I had sex with a twelve year old, Sam." The statement stopped Sam short. "But there's a catch. I was eleven at the time. It was stupid, but both of us were pretty willing. You do stupid things when you're a kid and no one else in your world gives a damn."

"It would be nice to find her and get her statement to that fact. For some reason the records saw fit to withhold her name."

Al laughed out loud. "We're still friends."

"What's her name? I want to talk to her."

History may have painted the Admiral as a renegade, but he grew up to understand friendship was precious. "It's not your decision. It's hers." The number was dialed and Al's friend answered. They talked about the situation and the appointment was made. No question about it. Hannah had no concerns about telling the story as it really happened.

The silence before A.J.'s next statement told everyone there was something else coming. "They're going to play this all out in the press including the sex thing. You ready for that?"

"How should I get ready for it? It's defamation of character."

"I'm drawing up those papers now. It's going to be added to all the other charges. The whole thing is going to be messier than I thought, but I still know we'll win."

Al's eyes stared into the table. "Yeah, that's nice. We win the case and fuck up who knows how many lives."

Sam understood what Al meant even if A.J. didn't. "I don't think this will hurt the project."

"This might do it, Sam. They won't fund us if they think I'm a sex offender."

A.J. looked from one man to the other. "Do I need to know what you're talking about?"

The Admiral snapped. "You don't have clearance." He looked to the physicist. "We'll talk about this later." The headache behind his eyes got bigger. "What else do you need from me?"

The stack of papers was pushed in front of Al. "I'd like you to read this."

The idea of going through 250 pages of legalese made Al's hair curl even more than usual. "You're joking." A.J.'s expression let Al know there was no humor in the request. "Let Sam read it. He knows more about what happened than I do. After the second or third time that walking sledgehammer whacked me, I was out of it."

Sam picked up the tome. "I'll read it, A.J. I finished the novel I was reading. This will be like going back to school."

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By noon, Sam and Al were onboard the Navy jet, the military equivalent of a corporate liner. The pile of paper from A.J. sat in front of Sam. After an hour or reading, reading and re-rereading, Sam was done. Even his magnificent brain was dumbfounded by the repetition of language. He was very happy he didn't pursue a law degree. It would have driven him crazy.

Al sat at the rear of the plane buried in his thoughts. While dreading having his life opened up again for people to point at, he was more concerned about Quantum Leap. When Sam sat across from him Al opened the conversation by saying, "I hate Gooshie."

Sam agreed. "I've had mixed emotions about him all week myself."

"I guess that's the best way to put it." Looking up he confessed, "I'm not sorry about nailing Chuck. You have to know that, but everything else has been . . ." Words weren't his friends at the moment. "I knew we were friends. This trip didn't do anything in that arena."

A more reflective Sam said, "Did for me. We had a project before. Now we have quest just like in **Man of La Mancha**."

Despondency spoke. "That impossible dream got destroyed."

"You think they're going to pull funding, don't you."

"Would you fund a sex offender? I sure as hell wouldn't. I hate the bastards."

Sam decided to be honest with the Admiral. "I'm not thrilled that you and Hannah were having sex when you were twelve, but you were as young as she was. It wasn't a matter of an older man overpowering a child, threatening her, making her believe things that weren't true. My gut feeling is that you both loved each other, but you made a bad choice."

"I don't care if that comes back to haunt me. What else is new, but now Hannah is brought into all this. I'm a disaster area. Come near me and have your life fucked up."

"I'm not sure Katie would agree. Or my mom or me, but I'm not going to sit here and try to convince you of that. You won't believe me."

"I keep thinking of Gooshie. He had something in mind here and I'm not sure what it was."

"That goal was achieved, Al. He wanted us to be sure we'd go to the mat for each other. I'm hoping we know that now."

"We knew that before though. Something is missing here, Sam and I don't know what it is. I'm not even sure Gooshie knew. What he wanted us to do, well we did that a long time ago even if we didn't know it, but there's something wrong with the project and I can't figure it out yet." When he shook his head, his brows knitted in pain. "Damn headache."

"You want some aspirin?"

"I guess." Sam left his friend to contemplate the importance of their trip. On the way back to the seat, he grabbed a bottle of water. When Sam returned with aspirin and water in hand he found Al sadly smiling like a man recalling a fond memory of a dead friend. "Take these." Al's palm turned face up in front of him and Sam had to reach out to place the pills in his hand. The bottle of water was downed in seconds.

After a sigh, the Admiral asked, "We're going to be changing people's lives, right?"

It was an obvious question. "That's the plan."

"And the computer is going to be the key to maintaining contact to that other timeline."

"So far, again, that's the plan."

Al held the water bottle out for Sam to take. "Your science is amazing and the idea of being able to use string theory to fold time back on itself and move from one place in a lifetime to another - well, that's incredible, but we're in the same position as the scientists at Alamogordo. They harnessed the atom and it became a weapon of war. That's the issue for us to think about and if we continue, then we have to hire an ethicist. Quantum Leap is not only science." His head still hurt, but discovering the source of his unease made breathing easier. "I knew something wasn't sitting right, that there was a hole we missed."

Sam sat back and his face became serious and doubt danced in his eyes. "You're talking Calavicci. Speak English."

The Admiral flexed his hand in front of him and stared at his fingers moving back and forth. "The problem at Alamogordo was that the Atom bomb didn't have a conscience. Quantum Leap is as powerful as the atomic bomb and we have to make sure, somehow, that it won't get sucked up by the military and turned into a weapon. You have to design fail-safes to keep their noses out of it. We can't have those nozzles using the project for themselves." The computer in his head started processing. "The computer has to be more than a computer. Sam, I think we need to hire an ethicist to work on programming ethics."

The light bulb snapped on in Sam's brain. "I was thinking of giving it a personality, seeing if we could program emotions into it." The boy wonder's mind was doing flip-flops over the potential. "Part of programming a personality can be an ethics component. Your idea about an ethicist is a good one." The idea excited Sam, but it was time to have fun at Al's expense. "With your history, you must have dated at least one woman who wouldn't put up with your hound dog lifestyle. We could call her. She'd be qualified."

Al laughed and told his buddy, "Me date someone with morals? You must be kidding."

"We have to add more power to the computer." Smiling, he told Al, "Maybe we need a nanotechnologist who specializes in miniaturizing computer information retrieval systems."

"I think so, Sam. Even more than that, though, you need a brunette from Delaware."

Both men now had a new problem to solve - programming a computer with emotions and ethics. They enjoyed these kinds of mind games, but Sam wanted Al to relax instead of getting all pulled into the math of the intricate programming. The novel purchased for Al sat on the seat next to the Admiral. "I buy you an expensive book and you don't even try to read it."

He looked over at it and told his buddy, "I will. I've wanted to read it for awhile now. Got great reviews, but I'm in my illiterate mode right now. No novels for awhile."

The Admiral's eyes closed and he looked pale and tired. Sam was a bit nervous about it all. "Listen, when we're done with the committee, I'd like to have you check into Bethesda for a few days. You aren't bouncing back the way I want you too."

His eyes stayed closed. "Me? I bounce good. I just need to have this committee meeting over with and go back home. I like traveling, but enough is enough. Time for some boredom." His hand pushed against the air. With a smile he told Sam, "Go away. Let me have some peace. The flight will be over too soon and then I'm grounded again. I hate being grounded."

He did. Sam was aware of how high the Admiral soared and it was his incredible sense of flight and fancy that helped Sam break out of his conservative kind of geeky lifestyle. Sam certainly had the brain power and vision, but he needed to learn wildness and abandon. He learned from the best, a man whose intellect could understand the science Sam created, but owned a personality formed by hardship, an amazing variety of experiences and a definitely roguish predilection for the bizarre. They were the perfect combination for leading edge science. Quantum Leap would harness these two men biologically for the inner workings of a computer that now would be getting a personality. Sam's mind smiled almost as big as his face.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

The Hotel Monaco had the same suite ready for the travelers. Check-in was instantaneous and they moved toward the elevator. From behind a woman called, "Admiral! Wait a minute."

Sam's eyes rolled. "Already?"

The young woman ran to the pair and threw her arms around Al. "I have been so worried about you." Her pretty face buried itself in his shoulder. "You scared me."

"I'm fine, honey. Everything's okay." Her tears started and Al patted her gently. "Oh, crying isn't necessary. Take a look at me." He pulled her away from the tight grasp she had on him. "See? He didn't kill me."

"But he hurt you. They said so on the news and I saw the magazines."

"Since when do you believe the tripe they print? If whoever is the flavor of the month isn't near death then they don't sell as many magazines." He held onto her hand and backed up to take a look at the young woman. "You get prettier every time I see you."

"You've been saying that for 30 years, Uncle Al."

"And it's always true." He held her hand and presented her to Sam. "Didn't I tell you she was drop dead gorgeous?"

Sam's mouth opened like a guppy's. This was Alex and Al hadn't lied. This was one stunning woman. "Yeah, you did, but I didn't know if you meant it. Oh boy, did you, 'Uncle Al'. ."

Al and Alex both started laughing. "You don't get to call me Uncle Al." The Admiral turned to his charge. "He usually sounds smarter than this. Really."

"I believe you." Alex held out her hand in admiration. "I'm honored to meet you, Dr. Beckett."

Sam took her hand and it felt really good. He couldn't take his eyes from hers and stammering was the best he could do. "You, um, you can call me, uh . . ."

The Admiral started laughing again, "Your name is Sam, remember?"

"Yeah, Sam. I'm I'm Sam."

He looked from one genius to the other. They were tongue-tied teenagers. "Brother, the two smartest people I know and neither of you can make a sound." The younger people blushed. "Haven't you learned anything from me?" It was becoming obvious that three was going to be a crowd. "Sam, ask her if she wants to get a drink with you."

He followed orders. "Would you like to go get a drink?"

Alex blushed even more. The Admiral said, "Now, Alex, you tell him you'd like that."

She followed orders. "I'd like that."

"Now, both of you go into the lounge, get a nice glass of really good Barolo and talk to each other. I'm going upstairs to the suite. Come get me for dinner." Al entered the elevator with the bellman and all the luggage. "See you two later."

Sam and Alex stood there watching their connection disappear. Each one was nervous about looking at the other, but Sam gathered his courage and escorted Alex into the lounge adjacent to the lobby. "So, you've known Al since you were a kid."

"He's my godfather."

"Your godfather? He didn't tell me that."

They sat at a small table near the window and got to know each other better. Science seemed the natural starting point. Alex explained her theories of nano-information retrieval systems and Sam knew Al was right. Alex was perfect for Quantum Leap and that excited sweet Sam even more than the idea of a woman in his life again.

As they chatted Sam was pleased to realize he could be interested a woman, finally. It had only been 15 months since he was left at the altar by Donna Elesee and it was about time another woman was appealing. "Your uncle thinks you might be interested in a little project we're working on."

"He said there was something going on that I might be interested in, but beyond that he was completely close-lipped. When he doesn't want to talk, he's as quiet as any person I ever met."

Alex wanted Sam to fill her in, but he couldn't and wouldn't. He avoided the unspoken question. "That's Al. I guess you've seen him through a lot."

"When I was a little girl, he would come over and it was like having a little kid come to visit. We'd play and run. He bought me a two-wheeler with training wheels for my fifth birthday. It was bright red. I'll never forget it. It was the first time I met Aunt Beth. They had just gotten engaged. I was a flower girl at their wedding."

Sam had heard rumors about Beth, the fabled first love and wife who opted to believe her MIA husband died in Vietnam. After having Al declared dead, she remarried and they never spoke again. It seemed to bring profound sadness to the Admiral any time the memory was resurrected. Sam never brought it up and he carefully steered conversations away from recollections of that lost passion, but this was different. "You're the first person I met who knew Beth."

"Not well, though. They moved to San Diego right after they were married. I cried for days. I didn't want him to go and leave me. We wrote all the time and my folks used to let me call him once a week. We did that for years. I guess I saw him maybe once a year until he went to Vietnam and then he was MIA." She revealed her desolation when she admitted, "I hated the war and I used to protest against it, but when he was shot down, I sent away for an MIA bracelet with his name on it. I didn't know what else to do. I swore I'd wear it every day until the day he got home. Quite honestly, I thought I was going to be wearing it forever. I didn't think he was coming home." It was a difficult memory. "A lot of the people I hung with called the soldiers baby killers and stuff like that. I knew Uncle Al wasn't a baby killer. He used to write me letters. I still have the ones I got from Vietnam."

"My brother was in Vietnam. I kept his letters, too." The sadness of losing Tom came into his eyes and he looked away.

"He died there, didn't he." After Sam nodded Alex said, "I think I know the feeling. I was convinced Uncle Al was dead. My dad cried for days after we got the news he was shot down."

"They were close?"

"They were friends since they were kids in the orphanage. My dad stuttered and the kids would make fun, but Uncle Al would stick up for him and I guess he even had a few fights over it."

The story was pure Al Calavicci, fighting for the underdog while being an underdog himself. "Uncle Al would work with my dad for hours trying to get his speech right. No one else ever tried to do that. It took about two years, but Dad never stuttered again. They were best buddies."

"Sounds like. I know Al has a lot of respect for your dad."

"Dad and Mom both loved him. We used to talk about him all the time. Then when my folks died, I felt like there was no one left alive who cared about me. It was terrible."

"How did they die?"

"Car accident when I was 17. I dropped out of college and was living off some cash left in their estate, working as a waitress. I'm glad I managed to hold onto the apartment though. If I hadn't they wouldn't have found me."

"They?"

"The Navy. They contacted me when Uncle Al got home and Aunt Beth was remarried. They were looking for my parents. I flew out to San Diego so fast and when I saw him, I fell apart."

"He really looked terrible. I saw some photos."

"That's not why I fell apart. He did look terrible, but I was so lonely. I thought my life wasn't worth much, but having him back just was overpowering. He was a miracle for me."

"He does that to people, doesn't he?"

"More than he likes to admit. We actually were able to get him home from the hospital on my 19th birthday. I'll never forget it. That was a big enough gift, but he managed to get me enrolled in school again and set up a trust fund with my parents' savings. At least, that's what he told me he did. Turns out he was feeding his own cash into the fund. I didn't know until the bank called me for some information. He still denies it was him, but there was no way my folks had that kind of money put away for me and the Navy had six years of salary waiting for him."

"That's the second time this week where I heard of him paying for things and not letting people know about it. He's a softie."

Alex laughed and smiled with fondness. "Don't let him hear you say that. He thinks he's tough and in a lot of ways he is, but he's as mushy as they come." She finished her wine and just had to add one more story. "You'll love this. When he got me in school, at Stanford no less, he had an apartment for me off campus. He made the second bedroom into a library. He filled one row of bookshelves with Wonder Woman comics and Nancy Drew mysteries. Ever since I was a little girl, I loved Wonder Woman and Nancy Drew. He remembered that after all he'd been through and made sure all those books were there."

"He bought me a yo-yo the other day."

"Don't you love yo-yos? I have a whole collection. Every year on my birthday, he gives me another one. I have some real classics. My favorite is this psychedelic neon yellow and blue butterfly yo-yo from the 60s. It was the last one he got me before he went MIA." The waiter came by to offer another glass of wine. Alex declined. She told Sam, "Uncle Al would be furious with me if he knew we were talking about him like this. He's a very private person."

"Private? He the most extroverted guy I know."

"Those are two different things, Sam. When he's big and boisterous, he's hiding. All that noise is just a bigger wall."

Sam could see what Alex meant. It was less likely that people would pry if they thought what you saw was what you got. Their conversation stopped and all they could think to do was smile at each other. Sam's eyes drifted to the clock on the wall. It was almost seven; certainly time to get their mutual friend for dinner. After signing for their wine, he escorted Alex up to their suite.

When they arrived upstairs, Sam checked on the Admiral. Al was asleep again and while it didn't look like nightmares, his sleep was restless. "Al? You ready to wake up?"

The Admiral stirred a little and turned to see Sam standing over him. "What time is it?"

"Just past seven. Time for food."

He fumbled to a sitting position. "Again? Alex still here?"

"She's out in the living room. Got any ideas for a restaurant?"

"Yeah. You take Alex out and I'll get room service." He threw his legs over the edge of the bed. "She's something else, isn't she?"

"I want her on Quantum Leap."

The rogue in him was wide-awake. "That the only place you want her?"

Making Sam blush was pretty easy and Al enjoyed watching him turn red. Sam found it less amusing. "Why do you do that to me?"

"Because it's fun." He rolled his head from side to side to work out a tightness in his neck. "Don't feel so picked on. I only pick on people I like."

Sam laughed. "Don't like me so much."

"Too late, kid. You walked into this on your own accord and once you're in, you're caught." His first attempt to stand wasn't successful, but he made it on the second try. "I suppose I should put pants on. She is my goddaughter after all."

"Why have you been keeping her a secret? I like her . . . a lot."

"Why am I not surprised?" He started to the bathroom. "You needed time to be sure Donna was a memory. Now that she is, it was okay for you to meet Alex. And now I can take a shower. I'll be out in twenty minutes."

True to his word, Al joined his young friends twenty minutes later. He was dressed pretty casually. Sam looked disappointed. "I thought you were going to be spending a lot of money on us for dinner tonight, but you're dressed for McDonald's."

"Guess again. I'm staying here. You're going out on my card." He sat on the couch and put his feet on the coffee table.

Alex sat next on her godfather's left. "Uncle Al, I'm not going to do that." She put her head on his shoulder like she had probably done hundreds if not thousands of times before. "I want to spend time with you."

Sam had the solution, "So it's room service for three. I like room service."

He put his arm around the light of his life. "I'm not going to be much company. This meeting tomorrow is on my mind. I'm a little worried."

Sam had forgotten about the meeting. The brief respite had been welcome and now he too joined Al's concern. "Oh yeah, not like there's anything important on our minds."

This was why Al wanted the young couple to have some time to get to know each other. "Right, so you two should go have fun."

Alex stopped him almost mid-sentence. "No. I want to stay with you. We haven't seen each other in months and you almost died on me again. You know, three times is too much for one person to deal with. You got to stop doing these things."

Sam tilted his head, "Three times?"

"Vietnam, the space shuttle disaster and now this."

Al had to correct her. "The shuttle wasn't a disaster. We all got down fine."

His greatest fan objected. "No thanks to NASA. They were lucky to have you onboard to pilot the thing. You promised me you wouldn't get yourself killed."

"I wasn't trying to, you know."

"I'm being selfish. I don't want to be alone and if you're out getting yourself killed, then I have no one again. I lived like that for almost 18 months. It was terrible."

Al held onto this child, this connection to a friend that filled a void in his life when no one wanted to fill a void. "Never again, honey. You'll always have me. I promise."

She snuggled closer knowing that was a promise he couldn't keep. "I don't want to go out for dinner. I want to stay here with you and watch television, something stupid and not sports." Without any warning, she started to cry.

They were together and happy and healthy. Al didn't understand her tears. "What's this all about, Alex? There's nothing to cry about." Then he had a terrible thought, "Is there?"

"No, Uncle Al, I'm fine. My job is fine. Everything is fine."

He tickled her a little. "Including the cats?"

"Otello and Iago are also fine. I just get scared when I hear that you're hurt."

Sam corrected Alex. "You mean Othello."

She looked into her uncle's eyes. "He doesn't go to the opera, does he?"

"He's a peasant." Al shook his head sadly.

"How can you deal with that?"

"It's hard." He leaned toward her ear, but ended up talking into her neck instead. "I hate to tell you this, but he's not Italian. Not everyone is blessed with a Mediterranean heritage, but he's not a bad guy."

Sam was being played like a Stradivarius. "Don't tell me. Alex is Italian?"

"My mother was. From Italy and everything. I grew up bi-lingual."

They spent the next five hours ordering food, making each other laugh, talking about the properties of quarks, and whether **Citizen Kane** really was the best movie ever made. At least half an hour was spent on who was the better super-hero, Wonder Woman or Superman. When it came time for dessert, the Admiral ordered one of everything just in case they got hungry later again and he liked dessert anyhow. Just a week before Sam and Al spent an enjoyable evening at the Erskine's home laughing and singing, but Al was the misfit, the one who didn't get all the family jokes. This time around, it was Sam who didn't know why fireflies were funny or what they meant by the phrase, "I'm much better now," but he saw how those things made Al and Alex laugh and that was good enough. It was pleasant to see a smile on the Admiral again. The last few days were hard, hell the last few weeks were hard and these brief moments of relaxation and amusement were gaining importance.

It came time for Alex to leave, but Al didn't want her driving back to Delaware that night. "I know you're all grown up, but I can't let you go back tonight. You can stay in my room. I'll sleep on the couch."

Sam understood why Al wanted Alex to stay, but the Admiral needed to have a bed. "I'll stay on the couch. Alex can stay in my room."

She looked at the two men trying to figure out her life for the evening. "Excuse me, but do I have a say so? Seems that the decision should be mine." They looked sheepish. "Right, I decide and I decide that Sam will sleep in his bed, Uncle Al will sleep in his and I get the couch." Her adamancy stopped both men from trying to change her mind. She looked at the Admiral. "Now, all I need are a pair of your jammies and I'll be a happy camper."

"I'll get them for you." He started toward his room. "We have a meeting in the morning, so we'll be up early. You can stay as long as you'd like."

Sam was alone with Alex. "I really can take the couch. I don't mind."

Alex wouldn't hear of it. She was on the couch. "Don't worry, Sam. The couch is great. Anyhow, I would like a little time to talk to Uncle Al alone if you don't mind. I'm hoping he'll have another half hour in him before the night is over."

The evening had been so enjoyable, that Sam didn't even consider he was taking time from Al and the closest thing he had to a child of his own. "Of course. I should have thought of that."

Al came back with a pair of his pajamas. Sam said goodnight and left Alex and his friend to have a little heart to heart. Alex sat back down on the couch. "Come sit next to me." Her godfather followed orders and sat beside her. "I've missed you."

Snuggling close to her he said, "Your folks would be very proud of you. I am."

"If I ask you a question, will be honest with me?"

That kind of question is always hard to answer. For him there was only one answer, "Maybe."

"Uncle Al, I need the truth." She took both his hands. "Are the nightmares back?"

Somehow, Alex always seemed to know. When he got back Vietnam and Beth wasn't there for him, young Alex was. She saw the nightmares from the beginning. The first one came the first night he was back at the bungalow and Alex set up her space in the second bedroom. Al always thought she had a special sense about him. She could tell when he was going to have a bad dream even before he figured it out. "The nights haven't been all that great. Sometimes I dream. Most times I don't."

"I can see it in your eyes. You're unfocused tonight."

"I have a lot on my mind. Things will be better after tomorrow."

"You're still not going to tell me about tomorrow, are you?"

"I would have a week ago. Can't now. Things aren't so sure anymore. If things go right, then we'll do a lot of talking, but if not, it has to remain a secret. Sorry, kid."

Alex's sixth sense was working overtime. "What else is wrong?"

He felt like shit and Chuck's beating hurt worse than he tried to let on. Things weren't right, but he didn't need to think about that. The project was more important. "Nothing is wrong. I'm just still sore from that clown beating on me. Chuck-zilla was a big guy."

"How did you end up in Indiana anyhow?"

"It's not much of a story. There's this programmer Sam wanted me to meet. The three of us had dinner and he suggested we go on a road trip. We had two weeks to kill." He chuckled. "Poor choice of words, anyhow it sounded innocent enough. Who knew it would blow up like this."

"So you did the Kerouac thing."

"You could say that."

"What did you find out about yourself?"

Gooshie's road trip was suggested so they could find out about each other, not themselves. It hadn't occurred to him that he would learn more about his own machinations than Sam's. "Let's see. I found out that I'm not so good a fighter anymore."

"You're 52. Of course, you're not. That one was easy. What else?"

He never thought there was much depth to his character. He was what he was and that was it, so her question was hard to think about let alone answer. "I don't know. Can't think of anything."

"Can I give it a try?" A shrug of his shoulders was the only answer she got. "I think you're beginning to see that you can trust people again. Only took you 11 years."

The "t" word was one Al had trouble with since he was a kid. "I trust you and your Aunt Hannah."

"I know, but I think there's another person joining our little circle."

"You mean Sam."

With a sarcasm learned from her uncle she said, "You were always the quick one."

He pulled her a bit closer wanting this child's love to help him feel safe. "He's a good man. He saved my life."

"I'm glad you have him as a friend, but it's even more than that." He didn't understand what she meant. "I know you, Uncle Al. You keep me in one part of your life and protect me from the others. That's how I knew your marriages weren't going to work out. You never wanted me to be at the weddings. It's like you want me to be a separate thing in your life and I kind of like that. Makes me feel special, like I'm the person you can go to when you need to get away from everything, me or Aunt Hannah. This time around though, you introduced me to Sam. He's part of your other world. You're letting him into our little club. That's trust."

Alex was special for him. She was his child, his confidant, the one who knew most of the ugliness in his life and still she loved him. He didn't want to spoil that perfect relationship. "You're still number one."

"I better be." She looked into his eyes. "I think it's terrific. You must like him a lot to let him meet me. The way I see it, you must trust him as much as you trust me."

"I don't know if I'd go that far."

"Yeah, you do and I'm glad." She had tears again. "I worry about you."

"I'm the grownup. Let me do the worrying."

"Like that will happen." She tenderly kissed his cheek. "You need rest. Go to bed."

"I slept a few hours this afternoon. I'm not that tired. You take my bed. I'll stay out here. God knows I've had worse quarters." The book Sam bought him was on the end table. "I can start reading **_The Name of the Rose._**"

"I'm not taking your bed."

He furrowed his thick brows and put on a serious voice. "Yes, you are, young lady." Then he smiled. "Did that sound paternal?"

"Almost."

"I'm not leaving this room, so if you want to sleep here, that's fine with me." He got up from the couch, picked up the book and sat in the big overstuffed chair across the room. "Can you sleep with the light on?"

It was a losing battle. "Okay, okay. I'll take your bed. Goodnight, Uncle Al."

He was alone in the living room. Sam was safely tucked in one bedroom and Alex in the other. This was not a night he could risk a nightmare. Despite the nap earlier in the day, he knew he could fall asleep pretty quickly, but he didn't want any nightmares, not with Sam and Alex both nearby. However, without sleep, he would be a mess at the meeting the following morning. The book was put back down where he got it. He couldn't read so he turned out the lights and lay down on the couch.

Alex told him he was starting to trust people. It scared him to think he could trust. Nearly every sacred trust in his life abandoned him. The idea that Sam could be another loss waiting to happen was frightening. Maybe trusting him wasn't such a good idea. When he bolted from Al's life - and he would -, it would be another void to fill. Maybe, though, Alex was right. Maybe Sam was someone to trust. The argument raged on in his head until he fell asleep believing that there was no one he really could trust. No one at all.

It had been ten months of solitary confinement chained in a dark hooch that he only left for beatings and interrogations. Then Steve showed up. The POW was a Petty Officer, a fellow Navy man. The Lieutenant nearly cried. Not only another human being, but one that spoke English and came from Jersey. They spent days talking about family, friends, the Navy, their careers and the need for hope.

Those long months gave Al time to plan and he finally had someone to talk through it with him. He could recognize each guard by the sound of their walk. He used his brief moments outside the hooch to map the camp. It was possible. Escape was definitely possible and he was going to go for it. Steve was welcome to come along. The plan had an elegant simplicity and Steve agreed that it could work. The Lieutenant believed his two years MIA were going to end and it was even better that a buddy would be getting out with him.

But the people you think you trust can really turn on you. Steve was a parasite latching onto the VC for small favors like food without roaches crawling through it. That night, the guards waited for the Lieutenant to make his break. Steve tagged along behind his fellow prisoner. Al was only ten yards from freedom when half a dozen guards with bayoneted rifles surrounded him and him alone. Steve was behind the guards. His circle of friends protected the turncoat from the rage inside the Lieutenant's heart. It was going to be bad, really bad and he had Steve, that bastard to thank for it. So much for trusting anyone again.

They tossed him into the pit, the deep one. Fifteen feet under the jungle floor he stood in muck and mud, vomit, piss, shit and everything other kind of garbage imaginable. His hands tried to claw their way up the side, but the walls were sludge and all he did was add more dirt to the bottom. At dawn, he was dragged out, chained with his hands tied behind him. They threw him into the river, holding his head under until he couldn't help but breathe in water. His lungs pounded and when they pulled him to shore, he coughed out black sewage.

They staked him out on his stomach, his arms pulled above his head, his legs bound together from below his knees to his ankles. The rope near his knees staked his legs to the ground. They bent his knees attaching a rope from his ankles to the post that held his arms. The soles of his feet faced up. The bamboo came down on the bottom of his feet. Weird thing about getting feet beaten, it doesn't hurt so much at first, but soon even a tap sends lightning through your spine and your brain hammers against your skull and you can't tell where your body is any more. All you feel is massive pain that surrounds every nerve snaking its way through your skin. His feet and legs were beaten for hours until the villains torturing him became tired of the game.

Now came the sport. He was released from his bondage. His legs collapsed under him too many times to count, but that had to stop. No matter how hurt his legs were, he needed to depend on them. They had to be strong. An iron collar was locked around his neck and both wrists chained behind his neck. Each of the dozen guards picked a weapon of choice, bayonets, bamboo cane, studded whips, cattle prods. They made a huge circle. He stood waiting for it to begin. From behind him, he felt the first sting, an electric shock over his spine collapsing him to the jungle floor. He crawled from the pain, but guard pulled him back on his tortured feet. Each step shook him with chills of pain, but he had to keep moving. The bayonet slicing his arm would go too deep if he didn't move on toward the guard with the whip that slashed down across his back. From thug to thug, he ran praying that he would escape the onslaught and still hoping to find the courage to let them kill him.

Tired, weak arms pulled back against the iron collar and he couldn't breathe. It would be easy to die, but he failed in that quest. He didn't have the guts to give up, but he also didn't have the strength to fight any more. Falling one last time, he landed face down. A prod jammed into the base of his skull and discharged its electricity and then again, the shock blew through his ears and eyes and then again, it shrieked splitting his brain into pieces. His wounded heart beat vulgar and fast. It sounded louder in his head than his screams. All he wanted to do was kill the bastard he trusted, the turncoat, but the VC turned him into a nothing who could do no more but cry and beg them to stop, to please stop. Please stop. Please!

The brutal sounds woke Alex and Sam. They found their trusted friend shaking, sweating and still fighting the panic of that day. Alex threw on the lights while Sam took the Admiral's shoulders to gently shake him awake, but he fought against Sam's hands. Alex called out, "You have to hold him, Sam. Hold him tight. Talk to him." She ran from the room.

This looked to be the most vicious of the nightmares Sam witnessed. Al wasn't waking up. Over and over, he softly murmured, "You're safe. It's okay. Come on, Al, wake up." The frightened victim fought against the arms trying to comfort him, but reason finally responded and the specter of the past slowly dissolved and awareness returned. "Good, Al. It was just a dream." Sam didn't let go, but now his arms were nurturing and supportive instead of trying to keep the man from hurting himself.

Alex came back in with a washcloth and a towel. It was her turn and it was something she obviously had experience doing. "Sam, get him a glass of water, okay?" The young woman sat on the couch and eased her uncle down, his head cradled in her arms. A damp washcloth wiped his face. "It's gone now. No more Vietnam. You're safe with me and Sam. It's all over." She dried his face.

When was this shit going to end for him? It had been weeks, even more than a month now. Usually the dreams came once in awhile and then disappeared for months, but this was interminable. He was ashamed of this new weakness and mortified that both Sam and Alex witnessed it - again. It felt good to be held, but it wasn't right and he tried to get up, telling Alex, "Let me go," but he didn't have the strength yet. "God damn it."

"Just relax and stay put."

"Help me up." Again, he summoned all his strength and with gentle assistance from Alex, he found himself sitting, burying his head in his hands. Seemed he always sat like that after his dreams.

She put the towel over his shoulders. "I'll get your robe. You're going to be cold." She left him alone on purpose. He needed a few moments to transform from Lieutenant back into the Admiral.

Sam showed up with the water. He placed the glass on the coffee table in front of the bowed head. Then he sat and waited for someone else to begin talking.

Alex returned with her uncle's robe. "Let's get this on you." Putting on the robe required Al to lift his head and square his shoulders. Amazing how much that posture did for his appearance. Alex used the damp cloth to wipe his face again. She handed him the towel. "You all the way back home yet?"

"Yeah, I think so. Both of you go back to bed."

She put her hands on his shoulders to massage away the tension, but he pulled away. "You're not back yet."

"Yes, I am."

"Not when you move away from me like that." She made certain Al could see her hand moving toward his shoulder again. As it landed lightly, she felt him concentrate to keep from flinching. "I won't touch you if you don't want me to." Her hand slowly came down.

Sam watched and learned. Alex handled the Admiral differently than he had. She let him remain in control. The Admiral seemed more confident, but in some way more vulnerable. He didn't want to be in the way and though he wanted to remain, he asked, "Would you like me to leave?"

His sad brown eyes looked up and said, "It's okay. We can have a party."

Alex tried her hand on his shoulder again. This time he didn't move. "What was your dream about? One of the usual ones?"

All the Admiral had to say was, "Steve," and Alex knew what happened.

"The rat bastard again. I'd love to find that pig and beat the shit out of him. Let him have a nightmare or two about it all."

He'd been invited to stay so he wanted to know. "Who's Steve?"

"You want me to tell him, Uncle Al?"

He took the glass of water and sipped a little to wet his lips. "Steve Ostrowski was a Petty Officer, a POW who bunked with me the second year I was MIA. I'd been in solitary for months and I needed a friend, so I made a mistake and trusted him. Ostrowski told the guards I was planning an escape. They waited till I almost made it and when they caught me . . ." The memory shook him. "They were good. They almost drowned me. They beat me. They knew how to make it hurt, but never quite let me die and I wanted it so bad," he spoke defiantly, "They wouldn't even let me die. All thanks to Steve."

Alex immediately knew what triggered the remembrance. "I got into all that trust crap tonight. I'm sorry."

The Admiral didn't hear her words. He was still remembering the agony of that day. "The beatings were bad, but there's nothing worse that not being able to breathe. When my head was underwater and I couldn't get any air, it was the most terrifying feeling. Your brain keeps telling you have to breathe, but you know damn well that when you do, you'll be drowning yourself." Too much information. His ability to talk about the nightmare disappeared and he closed up.

Alex was nearly as protective of him as he was of her. "Damned prick. Just give me ten minutes in a locked room with," her lip curled with disgust, "Steve and we'll see what's left of the bastard."

Godfather looked over at her and smiled a little. "Your language is getting as bad as mine. On me, it's devilish. On you, it's just not pretty."

Now Sam's head was in his hands. "Oh God, that's what happened last week. My rat bastard, Petty Officer brother-in-law beat your uncle and tried to drown him. It's the same thing. No wonder you're having nightmares. I'm sorry, Al."

"It's not your fault, Sam. None of it is." The Admiral's heart finally began to beat at a normal rate again. The nightmare was moving out of his present and back into the past where it belonged. He felt safe with Sam and Alex. Maybe trust was a good thing, but not with many. Right now, trust was for these two and Hannah, and maybe Thelma Beckett.

Alex's kind hands worked down her uncle's back. She didn't see the bruises left by Chuck's attack and her right thumb pushed deep into the mark. The assault brought an audible gasp. The Admiral jerked forward away from the punishing hand. "Not a good spot, Alex."

She put her head on his shoulder. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Honey, I know." Awkward settled into the room. "Now, everyone go back to sleep."

Sam stood up. "A wonderful idea, but you're getting into a bed. I'll take the couch and there's nothing more to say about it. Understand?"

Al held out his hand. "Help me up." A true smile and a sense of real hope calmed his soul. These two people were true. Maybe the dreams might go away for awhile if he tried hard to remember that his ugly world included an Alex and a Sam. His world might not be as ugly as he thought.

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_AUTHOR'S NOTE: All rights to this story are reserved. Neither the whole nor parts (with exception of short excerpts for review purposes) may be published elsewhere without written permission from the author. Thank you._


	16. Day Fourteen Before the Inquisition

Road Trip - A Look before the Leap

The author thanks Bellasarius Productions, Universal Studios and any other creative entities responsible for Quantum Leap.

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**Day Fourteen - Before the Inquisition**

When morning light broke, Sam woke up no worse for wear. The couch turned out to be pretty comfortable. He looked in on Al who was still sound asleep, looking restful. Navy training made it possible for the Admiral to get up, showered and dressed in less than 15 minutes if need be, so Sam opted not to worry about waking his friend until 7:30. That would give Al an hour to get ready and for the both of them to get to the meeting.

Coffee was the first order of the day and Sam got a pot brewing. The smell brought Alex from the other bedroom still wearing Al's pajamas. Like her uncle, morning greetings were minimal. "How strong do you make your coffee?"

"Not as strong as Al, but it's drinkable."

She sat at the small dining table. "So you're not on the espresso with lemon bandwagon yet?"

"That sounds disgusting. Lemon in coffee?"

"It's very Italian. I doubt it will ever be a big thing here. We're a cream and sugar society."

Sam poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Alex. He sat across from her and asked, "Have you heard his stories about Vietnam? He won't tell me much."

"What you heard last night is about as in depth as he's gotten. I don't know if we'll ever know more than that. I'm not sure I want to anyhow." She sipped at the cup. "Sam, he looks terrible. How bad did that guy hurt him?"

"Pretty bad. After our meeting this morning I'm getting him into Bethesda for some real medical attention. He's not healing right and we have to find out why."

That's not what Alex wanted to hear. "So it's not my paranoia."

"Not unless you caught it from me."

"Can I wait here until your meeting is over? I want to go to Bethesda with you."

"Fine with me and I'm sure having you here will help me get him into Bethesda. He seems to listen to you better than he does to me."

"That's what you think." She held the mug in both hands. "He's going to be okay, right? I mean, it's just because he's a little older now and it takes more time for him to bounce back."

"I hope so. Not completely sure, but I hope so."

In the bedroom Al started to awaken. The light filtering through the curtain was soft, but it landed right on his face warming him. Rubbing his waking eyes didn't help his focus much, but he never woke up bright and cheery. He always thought a person should only see the sunrise if he had been up all night. From what he could tell, Sam and Alex were having happy conversation out in the suite. He heard the laughter and liked the sound. The idea that Sam and Alex might pair up pleased him.

They didn't see him slip into his bedroom, but they heard the shower running. Alex was the first to comment, "He showers more than any human being I have ever known. I swear he likes showers better than sex."

"That's impossible." Alex laughed out loud and Sam turned crimson. "I don't know why I always get my big foot caught in my mouth. I always do that."

"What? Tell the truth? He is who he is. Thank God he uses his power for good rather than evil."

"You're talking like Wonder Woman."

He opened the door to continuing the previous evening's debate. "Who is far more powerful than Superman."

"Not again. Wonder Woman is NOT more powerful than Superman. Everyone knows that."

"Get some Kryptonite and we'll see who's stronger."

Sam threw his hands up in defeat. "I give up. I'm going to get showered myself. I need to smell good for my meeting." He smiled at her and when she smiled back, he felt good, very, very good. "I'll, uh, be back soon."

Alex was left alone and just had to wait. So she turned on the Today Show and waited for both of her boys to get ready for their day.

Al was the first to make his way into the living room. The new suit was spectacular and Alex was most appreciative. "Wow. You been to see Luigi, haven't you."

"The man is good." He walked to her and tossed the pink tie. "Here, you always used to like to help me with my tie."

She stood in front of him. "A pink tie to talk to the feds?"

"Yeah, Lou gave me one more conservative, but I have a feeling what I look like isn't going to matter. I may as well wear what I like."

The tie was placed around his neck. "Full Windsor? That's what you used to like."

"Still do." Alex turned his collar up. "This is pretty hot looking. Great color. Love this gray. Is this the new thing now?"

"How would I know? I wear what I like."

"You wear what no one else would until they think it's okay to wear it and then you wear something else." She completed the knot and folded the collar down. "Damn, you're pretty."

He winked. "Aren't I?"

Her arms held him again. "Yes, and I love you."

It felt good, so he let her hang on. "Honey, I'm fine or I will be. I'll get better."

"They promised my parents would get better."

He sighed. "You're a bundle of joy this morning." Pulling back a little he adjusted his tie. "Would you pour me some coffee?"

Alex found another mug as Sam walked in, strutted in may be more like it. The coffee spilled over the edge of the cup. One more time Alex found reason to say, "Damn, you're pretty."

Sam winked. "Aren't I?"

"Oh, Lord, there are two of you. Just what the world needs." She shook her head at the pair. "Good luck at your meeting. It's my turn to shower. See you later, boys."

With his head tilted to the side a little Sam admired the Admiral's goddaughter. "She looks good in your pajamas."

"Hey, you be nice to me. Don't tell me stuff like that." He got up and walked to the desk. His briefcase was inspected to make sure he had what he needed. "We'd better get going."

"I'm not sure I want to do this."

"You got to face the fed heads like you own them. They're predators. If they sense fear, they'll come down on you like a mountain lion on a goat."

Sam stared and wondered, "A mountain lion on a goat? Where do you come up with this stuff?"

His brain just worked weird. Things flew into his head and he never always knew from where. "If I knew, Sam, I'd try to stop it. Trust me. It isn't such a good thing." He put on his overcoat. "Come on. We'll be late."

In a few minutes they were on the street walking in the cold November morning toward their meeting. "So, Al, what's your gut feeling here? Do we have a project?"

"I don't know, kid. I hope so. You deserve it."

They got to the corner and when the light changed, Al took his time looking both ways before stepping out. At first Sam thought it was just a good safe practice to adopt, but it was completely unlike the Admiral. Sam watched his friend carefully. "Yeah, we both do."

His head hurt a lot, so Al let Sam get a step ahead of him. Once he saw Sam step up the curb, he had his bearings and followed right behind him. "So, do you want to give the opening statement or should I?"

"You do it, if they want one. I have a feeling this meeting won't last long."

"What are we going to do if they deny funding?"

We'll raise the money ourselves."

The idea was absurd. "All 43 billion?"

"We'll have to change a lot of things, but we'll do it. You're going to travel through time."

They walked the next few blocks in silence. They turned a corner and their building loomed ahead. It made Sam stop dead in his tracks. Al kept going, not noticing his friend's absence from his side. Another curb confronted him, but he didn't see it and he kicked the toe of his shoe into the concrete and almost fell forward. "Shit."

Sam reached out to grab the Admiral's coat. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, damn it."

"Didn't you see the curb?"

"I got a lot on my mind."

As much as he didn't want to, Sam thought it best to talk about after the meeting. "The other day I told you I wanted to check you into Bethesda Naval Hospital. I haven't changed my mind. You're having some trouble and we need to find out what it is."

About three steps later Al mumbled, "Okay, this afternoon we'll go."

Al's willingness to go pleased Sam almost as much as it concerned him. Al hated hospitals, yet he pretty readily agreed to go. Even Al knew something wasn't right and from Sam's perspective it seemed like the Admiral was having trouble focusing. At this point Sam wasn't sure if it was something with Al's vision or with his cognition. The importance of the project diminished with his apprehension over the Admiral's condition. The road trip taught him that much at least. Al was priority now, not Quantum Leap and Sam was fine with that. A few weeks earlier, his feelings would have been more mixed. The trip had done a lot of harm, but a lot of good came out of it as well. He wanted the good to be overwhelming, but that decision wasn't his to make.

They walked into the empty conference room, their steps echoing against the ancient marble floors. The table waited for them. A pitcher and a pair of water glasses perched on a tray in the middle. Al took a seat first, leaving Sam to sit closer to the aisle. "Don't let them think you're nervous. They have to see that we're confident and capable of pulling off Quantum Leap."

"Are we?"

The Admiral shot a glance at the scientist that had daggers. "I'm putting my . . ." he stopped to find a better word, "career on the line for you here, kid. You'd better be capable."

Sam was surprised at the strong reaction. "I was just joking."

Al felt sheepish. "I'm not. This is too important, Sam. We have to get this funding."

The door at the other end of the room opened and seven somber men and women entered. Their faces were flat, telegraphing nothing. Once they found their seats, Senator Summerfield began to speak. "Welcome back, gentlemen. I would like to begin by telling you, Admiral Calavicci, how pleased we are to see you here. We were all concerned when we heard about the attempt on your life. It's good to have you here looking well, if not military. I don't think I've ever seen you on Capitol Hill out of uniform."

The Calavicci charm clicked in and any aches, pains, uncertainties, or doubts flew out the window. "I mean no disrespect, Senator. My uniform was destroyed in the incident and I haven't received the replacement yet. I hope my attire is appropriate."

Senator Summerfield smiled, "Entirely appropriate, Admiral. The pink tie is a nice touch."

Al sat back in his chair and relaxed. He leaned toward Sam and whispered, "We got it."

Sam whispered back. "I know."

The Senator began to speak. "We have had two weeks to reorganize a bit. Senator O'Reilly discovered his calendar was too full to give Quantum Leap the attention it deserved. I want to welcome Senator Caleb Henry to the committee." She pulled some papers out from a folder in front of her. "We don't have a lot on the docket today, though. Senator Henry has been briefed fully on Quantum Leap and I think we're ready for our vote. Before we continue, Admiral Calavicci or Dr. Beckett, would either of you like to address the committee?"

Al leaned into the microphone. "Thank you, Senator Summerfield, but unless you have any additional questions, I think you've heard all we have to say."

"I'm glad to hear that." The Senator laughed, putting her hands out to her sides pointing to the other members of the committee. "Unlike you, Admiral, none of us are rocket scientists and to be honest, it's not the _how_ of Quantum Leap that we are voting on. It is what we hope to see as results." She stopped to take a breath and finally letting her smile give away the good news. "I suppose I can't keep it from you any longer, nor should I. Congratulations. You have a project, gentlemen. Be true to your mission and you will achieve the most dramatic science the world has conceived."

Sam ebullience was uncontrolled. He jumped to his feet and cheered like his team just won the divisional title. Al's reaction was more subdued, but in some ways more powerful. The Admiral's hand covered his face, his eyes closed and he sighed. He squared his shoulders, pulled Sam back down into his seat and said, "Thank you all. You will not be disappointed."

The committee chair looked at her friend and told him, "Admiral, you are many things, but disappointing has yet to be on that list. As for you Dr. Beckett, your Noble Prize work speaks for itself. When we awarded this grant, the consensus was that this country needs to keep you two gentlemen together. Both of you have proven creativity, extraordinary minds, a dedication to work toward bettering our world. It is as much for those reasons as for anything presented in your documentation that we are willing to risk 43 billion dollars. So, start looking for a location. This meeting is adjourned."

Al kept seated trying to absorb the enormity of the grant and of the past two weeks, but Sam still had youthful exuberance on his side. He popped back up to his feet and began shaking the hands of all the committee members.

Janet Summerfield made her way to a very somber Al. "You're not happy?"

His eyes didn't look up. "I didn't think we'd get it. I thought with everything that's been in the press you wouldn't want to give me a dime let alone a third of the national debt."

"The committee had that conversation, Al. I'll admit it, but we looked closely at the work A.J. Chegwidden has done and at your history. When you were a kid, you may not have always made the best decisions, but you learned from them. Anyhow, we also looked at the history of the man accusing you. With his background I'm floored that he was even let into the Navy. Chegwidden is going to get him good and I'm glad."

"Me, too. Thanks, Janet."

She took his hand. "My pleasure, Al. Now, if you will excuse me, I would like to talk to your partner." Janet wandered to the other side of the room where Sam was engaged in conversation. Al stayed put. The project was theirs. He didn't have to fake feeling better than he did. Resting up a day or so in Bethesda Naval Hospital sounded almost good.

Sam and Senator Summerfield moved to a far corner. She slipped a box into his hand and patted him on the back. "You're a good man, Dr. Beckett."

Looking back at the Admiral he told her, "I learned from the best."

The room emptied. Sam and Al walked out into the corridor to find Gooshie sitting on a bench waiting for them. "Hello, gentlemen! So, when do you begin work?"

Stopping in his tracks, Sam said, "Gooshie! You're back."

Al was surprised. He asked Sam, "Did you know he would be here?"

Shaking his head, Sam talked to the programmer with bad breath. "How was Tibet?"

"An experience of a lifetime. I highly recommend it to both of you. I hear you got your funding and I've decided that I want to be part of Quantum Leap. When do I begin?"

Al had damned this little guy for most of the week and now he was confronted with that bug-eyed face being part of his life for years. "Right now, but I hope you're a better programmer than you are a travel agent."

Gooshie had a naïveté that was almost child-like. No wonder he and Sam got along so well. "Oh I didn't ask. How was your trip to Indiana?"

The aching Admiral groused, "The most fun I've had since '73."

"But in 1973 you were in prison in Vietnam."

"Well, at least you're quick."

Their new employee seemed sad. "Oh dear. It didn't work. You aren't better friends."

Sam put his hand on Al's shoulder. "We didn't need to be better friends, Gooshie. We needed to become brothers and I think we did."

The words were true and gave Al another reason to believe his world was changing for the better. "Yeah, we almost did." Sam was crushed, but the Admiral continued. "The trip isn't over yet. We have one more stop."

They left Gooshie and walked out of the building. Sam was still confused. "I don't get it, Al. I thought we got really close this week."

"There's one more thing we need to do." His hand reached out to the down button on the elevator and missed it by an inch. "Fuck." The third try lit the light and when they got outside, Al told Sam, "Let's go to the Wall."

Sam gasped. "Really? You want to visit the Wall with me?"

"If I can go to the wall for you, I can go to the Wall with you. I want to see Tom's name."

They reached the corner and waited for the light to change. Sam saw Al tentatively step down the curb. The Admiral kept close to Sam's side as if he needed the guidance. Sam moved toward Tom's name. Thomas J. Beckett, the name was at Al's eye level and Sam touched it with reverence. "It's right here."

The Admiral placed his hand by Sam's and traced the letters. "I'm sorry, Sam."

"I would do anything to have Tom back, but I know I have another brother, one that Tom would really like. Blood doesn't make family, Al. It's the commitment you make to each other. So yeah, I have a brother in you, just like you have daughter in Alex."

He heard Sam, but everything started getting muddled. Al became anxious. The Wall had his heart and soul at that moment. "It shouldn't have happened to any of them. It shouldn't have happened to any of them." His face was inches from the gray stone. Tom Beckett's name filled his field of vision. But there were thousands of other names on that Wall. It took all the courage in his body to look at the name and then to another and then the next one. The next name he saw choked him - Reuben Cole. An angry fist clenched, rose up and pounded against the granite. "God damn it, Reuben."

Sam pulled Al from the Wall and tried to comfort him. "Oh, Al, we didn't need to do this."

"He was in a camp with me. I got really sick, bad fevers. It was supposed to be my turn to get beaten, but he wouldn't let them take me. He went in my place. All I could hear was him screaming. It was supposed to be me." His face went blank with memory. "I never saw him again. Like you said, Sam, blood doesn't make family." Both hands pushed at the pain in his head and Sam heard him mumbling, "Reuben, I'm sorry. It should have been me."

Sam began to understand why Al never came with him to the monument. There was no arrogance in the act. It was self preservation. He decided to divert Al's attention. "I have something for you. I'm not sure if this is the right time to do this or if it's the right place." The box Janet Summerfield gave him appeared in his hand. "This is for you, but you need to take it from my hand."

The box was just out of reach. "What kind of game is this?"

"No game. Take the box."

"What is it?"

"I asked Senator Summerfield if she could help me get all your ribbons replaced. This is a new medal rack. You've earned these ribbons with every breath you've taken since the day you were born. Now, if you want them, you have to take them from me."

"That's really nice of you, Sam. Replacing them like that. It means a lot."

"They were lost saving my sister's life. I wish there was a ribbon for that. Now, I'm asking you again to take the box from my hand."

He knew what Sam was doing. "Okay, so you figured out I'm having trouble with my eyes."

"How bad?"

The smile was forced but also pure Calavicci. "I can still sort of see out of the right one. The left one is useless. It's a bad light show, but nothing else."

"Damn him. I hope Chuck fries. We have to get to Bethesda now."

Al took Sam's elbow. "I guess the road trip is over."

Sam flagged down a cab. "Yeah, it's over. We got a bigger trip to plan."

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_AUTHOR'S NOTE: All rights to this story are reserved. Neither the whole nor parts (with exception of short excerpts for review purposes) may be published elsewhere without written permission from the author. Thank you._


	17. Epilogue After the Road Trip

Road Trip - A Look before the Leap

The author thanks Bellasarius Productions, Universal Studios and any other creative entities responsible for Quantum Leap.

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**Epilogue - Back at Home**

The Admiral finished his story, but his youngest had too many questions. "Dad, what was wrong with you?"

"Blood clot in my sorry little brain. They did surgery that evening and in a few days I was fine."

"But that was a different timeline so none of it really happened."

Her father tried to explain, "It all happened, Allie. There are multiple realities existing all at the same time in different dimensions."

"So, right now, are you somewhere else living without us?"

"Right now, I'm here with you and mom. That's the only reality worth worrying about."

Gia snuggled closer to Sam. "Do you remember these other timelines?"

"Like I said, not completely. I have fragmented memories, but between the archives and your dad, I feel like I have real memories."

Allie got a refill on her soda, "That means Aunt Hannah knows about all this stuff. She's the archivist. Wow, you guys can sure keep secrets." When she sat back down Allie had more questions. "But if there are all these different timelines, how did Aunt Hannah end up in this one? And I remember you all talking about Alex."

Sam tried to explain it to her. "In all these timelines there are certain constants, certain things that don't change even though other things might."

"Like Dad still being MIA. That happened in both timelines." Her father turned his eyes away from everyone. "But in this timeline, you were MIA for eight years. In that other one, it was six. What happened? How did you get two more years in prison?"

The Admiral kept this secret even from Sam. He wasn't about to tell now. "I'm not sure. We ended up in Vietnam a few times. Usually when something big changed, it stayed changed. Those two extra years stayed with me after some leap. I'd have to go searching through the archives to try and pinpoint it." Searching through the archives would reveal nothing since Al and Hannah destroyed any records indicating that saving Tom Beckett was the incident that gave the young lieutenant two more years of torture.

Gia had tears in her eyes. "Daddy, how do you live like this?"

If he were honest, he'd have to admit that there were times when he didn't do it well. Since Sam's first leap the focus had been on bringing the scientist home because no one wanted him to be lost in time forever, but Al occasionally felt selfish when he prayed for an end to multiple timelines. "Everything is this timeline now. This is my life and always has been. You, your sisters, the kids, your mom, you are my world and always have been and always will be."

The incident with Katie Beckett was bothering Gia. "But you helped her in our timeline. I remember that. Mom flying to Ft. Wayne to be with you."

Beth had been called to come quickly. That time, Chuck nearly killed her husband. "That was so frightening. You were in that coma for days. I thought you were going to be brain-injured, that you would never leave the hospital."

The mood needed to be lighter. "Brain injury could account for my taste in clothes. What do you think?" He hugged his wife.

"Not funny, Al." She had her own heartbreak to consider. "I left you while you were still MIA. Why did I do that? I couldn't have left you."

He wanted her to know it was okay. "In that timeline, it was the right thing to do. In this one, you waited and for two more years. Having you in my life was worth those two extra years. You have to know that."

All Beth could say was, "I deserted you when you were still missing? How could I do that to you? You're my life."

"Why did Mom stay this time, Dad?"

Sam and Al looked at each other. They knew, but you could see the unspoken debate. Sam made the decision. "Do you remember talking to a man who told you that Al was alive and going to come home?"

"I remember dreaming that." Her heart started to race. "Then it really was you. I thought I was crazy thinking it was you. The project was never to be used for personal reasons. " Sam nodded. Beth looked into her husband's eyes. "I mean, earlier that night I imagined dancing with you. Was that true?"

"You couldn't see me. We danced to **_Georgia_** and I kissed your forehead."

Beth began to sob. "I can't listen to this any more. I'm sorry." She started out of the room.

The beautiful love of his life was the only woman in any timeline that he loved to the depth of his soul. He hurt her and it tore a hole inside him. "Listen, let yourselves out."

Allie, Gia and Sam sat contemplating all the little moments that may have been the result of a small change made in some decade past. One more question still bothered Gia. "What about Alex? Did she survive in that timeline, the one Dad just talked about?"

The odd thing about Quantum Leap was that small events could create huge changes in a person's life, but as far as Sam and Al knew, in every timeline, Alex Kelley died in 1989, less than a month before Sam's first leap. She was working on a power source for a nano-system to house the computer's ethics module when the circuit discharged a massive surge of electricity. Alex was killed instantly, in front of her godfather's eyes.

The Admiral's oldest child wistfully said, "I was hoping he'd be spared that in at least one timeline."

Allie pulled her knees to her chest. "I'm not sure Gooshie had such a good idea sending you on that road trip. Seems it only made bad things happen. Dad could have died."

"Sometimes, I feel the same way," Sam responded, "But that trip made it possible for your Dad and me to do our work. Even at the time we didn't realize how important it was to have that history especially since we were changing history. Things we learned about each other on that road trip saved our lives a lot of times."

In another corner of the house, Al could hear his bride crying. For a man who'd survived the kinds of things he had, the tears of his wife and children were even more painful. He opened the bedroom door and found Beth sitting on the bed weeping with no apparent end in sight.

"Beth, there's no reason to cry." He sat next to her, holding her in his warm arms. "You never deserted me. I'm the one who signed up for a second tour and deserted you. I was scared that we were going to divorce and I knew you wouldn't do that if I was overseas. It was stupid, but I couldn't imagine life without you and it made sense at the time."

She didn't want to let go of him. "Was it the same way in all the timelines? Did you go back to Vietnam every time?"

"Looks like. I was pretty scared of losing you and being apart seemed to be a way to keep us together. How's that for backward?" His hand gently wiped tears from her cheek. "I wasn't thinking very straight." He kissed her and held onto her again. "Everyone had deserted me all my life. When we started having trouble I had to believe it was all my fault and I mean from the day I was born. There's something romantic about the girl you left behind and I wanted to have you waiting for me. I don't know, Beth. It all made sense at the time, but you have to remember, that wasn't this life. That life doesn't exist. Only this one does. I love you and you were there when I got home. You made me well. You are everything good in my world. You have to know that."

Beth was scared. There was something Al had done for decades that always felt odd. "Earlier tonight you asked me never to leave you. Anytime we have something difficult to face you ask me that. I always thought it was because of your mother, but I have to know. Do you say that because you knew I left you in that other lifetime?"

The truth wasn't clear cut. He didn't know. Maybe yes, maybe no. This was not the time to give Beth more doubts. "My entire life was filled with people leaving me. You are the most important person in this world. I just need to keep knowing you'll be with me. I can't do this without you."

"Then you have to promise me that you won't leave me ever. You have to promise."

"You know I can't do that."

Beth's tears returned and all he could do was hold her, run his fingers through her soft hair, kiss her, and try to stay with this adored woman as long as fate allowed.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

The next morning came without any fanfare. It was just morning like it had always been morning since every timeline had ever begun. Dawn was a full half hour away. Al paced slowly across the patio in his backyard. The mountains were beautiful, tranquil, inviting and yet they were the result of eons of geologic upheaval. The analogy to his own existence was easy to make. His life now had serenity filled with love, but to get there he followed a path that would maim, even kill lesser men.

The previous evening's conversations were inappropriate. He never should have told of that other timeline where things got so out of hand, but it was that particular road trip of all the road trips in the other timelines that cemented the relationship between the scientist and his mentor. In that timeline, Gooshie never knew the importance of his passing suggestion.

It's hard to have regrets, but Al had them stacked up for more timelines than any human in the history of mankind. In order to maintain sanity, he learned to ignore regrets that had little value, but there were those that preyed on his soul. Those all had one thing in common. Somehow, he did something or failed to do something for someone he loved.

Loved? Admit to loving Gooshie? What was going to be next? The little guy with bad breath was an employee. No, that wasn't true. Gooshie wormed his way into the triumvirate the second he met Sam and Al outside the meeting room in DC. Losing this friend to this ugly disease was bad enough, but Gooshie's death held even more significance.

Once Sam returned home, the programming allowing for time travel was deleted from Ziggy's memory. Only one hard copy of the methodology existed and only three people knew where that copy lived. Now, one of those three was dead. The secret was in the hands of only two men. What would happen when the next one died? The last man standing would be responsible for harboring a knowledge that could be used for incredible evil. Maybe the hard copies needed to die next.

Beth joined him and put her hands around him. "I love you."

"I know and I can't figure out why, but don't stop."

"Never, my love." She laid her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry about last night. I was thinking about me and I didn't even consider you."

"That's not true." He turned to hold her. Holding her was the only thing he wanted to do. He could have stayed there all day just having her in his arms. "I called Sam."

"So early? That must have pleased Gia."

He kept talking as if he hadn't heard her, "We're going to meet at Gooshie's gravesite this morning."

"Why there? Kind of macabre."

"I need to talk to him."

She held his face with both hands and kissed him with the same passion she kissed him with the day they made love the first time so long ago. "I'll be here."

Those words were beautiful to his ear. "You better be. What would I do without you?"

Living with Al Calavicci for so long had its influence on her. The only answer she had was, "Marry five times?"

Rolling his eyes he confessed, "Apparently." As he walked away from Beth he let her know, "I'm taking the Duck."

Her over-protective side wanted to tell him that the Ducati racing motorcycle was not going to leave the garage, but she knew her husband. Al needed the freedom of a bike and she wouldn't keep that from him. She allowed herself a warning. "Be careful and wear your helmet."

"Always do."

The ride to the gravesite was fast, bordering on reckless, but living at the edge was a necessity at the moment. Flirting with catastrophe and coming out ahead felt good and fortunately he was able to complete the trip without incident. Sam was already there, hunkered down at the grave, placing flowers from his garden next to the headstone.

The young scientist who became a friend, who became a son-in-law, came to Al's side. "How are you doing this morning? Is Beth okay?"

"She's fine. We talked a lot last night. Then we did a lot of other stuff that was more fun."

"Here I am up all night worrying about you two and you're just having a fine time."

"My worst moment with Beth would be the envy of any man on earth."

Sam looked at him. "Getting romantic in your old age?"

"Romance is life, Sam. Hold Gia every chance you get. Never leave the house without kissing her and telling her how much you love her."

The words were somewhat odd, but Al often said unusual things. Sam took little note of it all.

The Admiral walked to Gooshie's grave and looked down. "Do you remember when Gooshie told us he was terminal?"

The moment had been branded in his brain with a fiery poker and it was never going to go away. "I always thought it was a weird thing for him to say." Al wanted Sam to remember the words. After a sigh he continued, "He said, 'I have something to tell you and I'm sorry.' He was sorry. Shit, he was the one dying."

Al's eyes stayed glued to the stone, unable to move from the engraved letters declaring a birth and a death. "Sam, I have something to tell you and I'm sorry." The pain in his soul was for his young friend. "I'm really sorry."

Sam's heart stopped and he had to think to get himself breathing again. "Not funny, Al."

"I know and I'm really sorry."

The admission twisted a knife in his heart. "No, no, no, no, no." His head shook from side to side. "You're lying. I don't know why, but you're lying."

Al's face still gazed into the stone. "Sam, I'm not going to make it this time." His eyes closed. "I'm not afraid to die, but I feel like I'm deserting Beth, my girls, you, my grandkids. It's like I'm failing you all. I'm sorry."

"Stop saying you're sorry!" The Admiral's spare frame was engulfed by his son-in-law. "God, please no. We'll get through this. We'll get Ziggy working on it full time."

He had to push away, "Sam, back off. Ziggy can't do a damn thing." A few feet between them now, he kept talking. "It's not going to do any good. I'm terminal and that's it. No pretending that I'm getting better."

"You can't believe that. You can't possibly believe that. There's always hope."

"Hope didn't do a lot for Gooshie."

"That's a load of crap and you know it." Al wasn't about to face him, so Sam made a point of standing in front of his friend and taking his shoulders in his hands. "You listen to me. You want to go down without a fight, but I'm not going to let you. So you have a choice. You can either cooperate and fight this with me or I'll make you fight it. I'm not letting you give up. Personally, I don't see you as the type to give up."

Too many years and too many battles were taking their toll. "I'm tired of fighting, Sam. There are only so many times a man can lose before he has to just give it up."

"When did you ever lose?"

"You're kidding, right?" The physical closeness had to be broken again. He walked to the stone declaring that Gooshie was born and then died. Sitting down beside it on the desert floor, he wiped dust from the granite. "Everything has been a fight for me."

"And I asked when you ever lost." He sat down on the other side of the grave. "I didn't say you never had to fight. Shit, I don't know anyone whose been thrown into the ring as often as you, but you have never lost. Now, I tell you, this will be a lot easier if you work with me instead of throwing in the towel."

"Too many boxing metaphors, Beckett. I get your point." He had to stop to take in the courage to continue. "I guess maybe this might not be worth the fight."

Sam wasn't sure if he was frightened out of his skin or madder than hell. "Listen, my daughter is only eight months old. Are you telling me she isn't worth the fight?"

A voice teetering between anger and sadness answered him. "I love her. You know that."

"I want her to know your love firsthand. I don't want you to be some story we tell her about the photo on the piano. I want her to know you as flesh and blood." He became resolute in his purpose. "We'll do this."

Believing that he would be deserting his granddaughter he smirked, "I told you I was failing everyone."

"You dim-witted son of a bitch. When has death ever been a failure? I'm not thrilled to hear you're terminal, - which I'm really not sure about anyhow - but the only failure here is giving up without letting us try to get you well or at the least prolong your life. We might be able to get you a few more years."

"A few more years? Why? To be honest, I'm amazed I lived this long."

"I am, too, but I'm not ready to give you up."

"Were you ready to give Gooshie up?"

The question hit him hard. No, he hadn't been ready and that was his own self-perceived failure. It seemed ridiculous to him that they had been able to fold time on top of itself, but couldn't figure a way to keep cancer cells from growing. The last few months of Gooshie's life, Sam and Al worked 18-hour days trying to find some kind of answer and had not been able to. Each day more life drained from Gooshie's body and they couldn't stop it. Then another fist plowed into Sam's gut. "When did you find out about this?" There was no answer. "How long ago, Al?"

"About three, maybe four weeks."

"Before Gooshie died. Damn you. I can't believe you didn't tell me." Now he was tearing up and in a minute he knew there would be no stopping it.

"How could I tell anyone? Gooshie was dying. What was happening to me didn't matter. It was Gooshie's time and he needed everyone's attention."

"But you went through his death knowing you had cancer, too? You didn't have to tell Gooshie, but you should have told me."

"Hey, I only told Beth three days ago."

Sam choked back anything that looked like he was going to cry. Al never dealt with tears well and now wasn't the time to see if he was any better at it. "I bet that was some conversation."

Al smiled. "Oh, yeah. She practically killed me right then and there."

"I know the feeling." Sam opted not to talk for a few minutes. Both of them needed to search inside them for some kind of terms they could live with, with some kind of hope.

Al wanted to believe there was something to do, but allowing for that would make the disappointment too much for him. He knew disappointment in every one of the timelines he lived and he didn't want more. On the other hand, if he didn't risk disappointment in the past, then he wouldn't have Beth or been able to survive in Vietnam or open up to having a friend like Sam. Maybe it wasn't time to give up. He wanted to, but somehow, here and now, it didn't seem right.

Sam didn't even know what kind of cancer Al was dealing with. Only a few were hopeless and even then, miracles happened. He knew God watched over Quantum Leap and had been standing beside the two of them an awful lot during the leaping years. They weren't going to be abandoned now. He just knew it. But Sam realized that even if Al succumbed to the disease, it was something that was inevitable. What wasn't inevitable was the idea of giving in without a fight. "Okay, **I'm **not ready to give up. I'll let you off today, but starting first thing tomorrow morning we're going to get into this and find options for you."

The scientist expected an argument, but he heard Al say, "If you can buy me time, I'll take all you can get." His hand reached out to touch the stone in front of him.

The change of heart surprised him. "Really? You mean it?"

A low chuckle and a sideways smile from the Admiral brought back old times. "Hell, we owe it to Gooshie to make time for one more road trip."

Sam grinned from ear to ear. "Only one?"

The Admiral laughed. "That's my line."

Reflecting back to the Gooshie's funeral Sam said, "Last time we were here, it was raining. You said the desert was crying tears for Gooshie. Remember that?"

"I was in an Emily Dickinson mood."

The sun was beginning to show its head over the mountain. "Look at the sky, Al. Not a cloud in it. No rain, just dawn opening up. The desert isn't crying."

The older man squinted into the first rays of light. "Not yet." He sighed.

Sam was pleased to see hope infiltrate Al's soul. "Come on. Let's go."

The Admiral stayed put, took a deep breath of crisp air and said, "In a minute, Sam. I guess I'm not ready to go home."

And Sam understood. Al wasn't ready to go _home_ and that made the younger man very happy. He had to confess. "I'm not ready for you to go home either."

So three friends shared the warmth of the day's first light - an ailing Admiral, a resolute scientist and a little guy with bad breath who still had the power to change lives. This time, it looked like he was saving one as well.

**The End**

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: All rights to this story are reserved. Neither the whole nor parts (with exception of short excerpts for review purposes) may be published elsewhere without written permission from the author. Thank you._


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